


Endless AUs

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Series: Prompt Collections from Tumblr [5]
Category: Birds of Prey (Comic), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League, Marvel, Secret Six, Torchwood, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types, Young Avengers, Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Meme, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 83
Words: 38,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another collection of prompt fills--this one in response to: "Send me some prompts for AUs! Give me a fandom/ship/characters and an AU setting for some quickfic!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Criminal Masterminds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tedaltmans asked:  
> Teddy/Billy criminal activity AU? [powered/powerless, bank robbers, con artists, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, whatever strikes your interest]

The salesman strokes his beard and says, “You know, sir, you can’t be too careful these days. What with all these mutant criminals running around? I heard tell not too long ago of a girl who could walk  _through your walls._  Could clear your house out ‘fore you even knew she was here.”

The collector goes pale. “Really?  _Walls?_  Well. Well, what does your system do to protect against that?”

"Ah. See, what we do here is, we’ve got Richards tech, fine stuff, we run an electrical and magnetic current through the your walls. That gets ‘em vibrating at a very low level, not really noticeable, won’t bother you at all.  _But,_  it makes ‘em  _totally_ impassable.  _Nobody_  gets through them.”

There’s a flash of blue light behind the collector’s head, but he doesn’t notice it. He’s actually  _wringing his hands._  “Yes, that sounds good. That sounds excellent. Do you have a brochure?”

"Right here." Another flash of blue light. The salesman doesn’t bat an eye. "And tell you what, want me to have our tech guy come by next week, say next Monday, give you a little practical demo?"  _Flash._

"Yes, yes. Definitely. Please. I need my collection as secure as possible."  _Flash._

A little more small talk, and then the salesman’s on his way, shaking hands with the collector three more times on the way out. He gets out the door, down two blocks, and then ducks into an alleyway.

He gets taller. His beard disappears. His hair changes from a graying-brown brush cut to a mop of gold, his eyes go from gray to green. His clothes change, too, from a respectable dark suit to jeans and a “Magneto Was Right” t-shirt.

_Flash._

He catches the other young man around the waist and dips him for a kiss. “Seeing you do that was hot.  _Very_  Black Cat.”

The other man grins up at him, brushing dark hair out of his eyes. “Thirty thousand dollars worth of authentic Atlantean gold coins,  _with_ certificates of authenticity.”

 _"Yes."_  The blond lets him up, and they link arms as they head back out onto the sidewalk. “We’ll be able to hire goons any  _day_  now. Wanna go to Papaya King?”


	2. A Very Mad-Eye Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> AU Prompt: Maybe not an AU per se, but I have a weakness for adorable animal transformations. Especially when the unfortunate person happens to be someone like Tim or Tommy or Noh.

Everyone stares. Billy says, slowly, “I’m getting a very Harry Potter feel here. Is Mad-Eye Moody around somewhere?”

No response. Except from the ferret.

It’s mostly white, with one long stripe of green down its back, and its eyes are like liquid gold. It chitters angrily and noses at the matched pair of energy pistols on the ground next to it.

David stares at it and then looks over at Tommy. “Bro, is your boyfriend a ferret?”

Tommy crouches down and holds out a hand, and the ferret climbs up his fingers, claws up the sleeve of his costume, and perches on his shoulder, still making angry noises. He suppresses a laugh as it presses its whiskered nose against his ear. “My boyfriend’s a ferret.”

America buries her face in her hands. “I thought he was supposed to be a roach.”

"I don’t know, I think he’s pretty cute like this." Kate reaches over and scratches the top of the Noh-Varr ferret’s head with the tip of one finger. "I mean, obviously we need to change him  _back,_ but a ferret’s not so bad.”

Teddy’s trying not to laugh, even as he’s shaking Loki gently awake from where the other boy fell asleep after transit—teleporting still takes it out of him sometimes. “Come on, Freezepop. Up and at ‘em. We have a Kree ferret to fix.”

The ferret squeaks again. It just sounds offended.


	3. Loki-Mite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tandlerovmusic asked:  
> AU (No Powers, kinda): Billy and Teddy aren't together. They don't even live in the same city. Until they're magically kidnapped by a crazy-powerful being from an alternate dimension and made to act out the rolls of Billy and Teddy in a fanfiction (devised by said crazy-powerful being) in the regular YA continuity.

Teddy stared at the boy across from him.  _Oh my god. He’s cute. He’s really cute. Wow._

Followed by,  _wait, how did I get here?_

The other boy looked equally confused. His brow crinkled. “You don’t happen to know how we got here, do you?”

"Not a clue." The dark-haired boy scratched his head. "I was just on my way to class and then  _boom._  Which was. Sort of cool? But um no. I don’t know where we are.”

"Same here. Sitting in figure drawing class and then I was here." Teddy looked up at the ceiling. "Maybe it was a rogue boom tube."

"Does that mean Orion’s going to show up?"

"Wait, you’ve read comics with the New Gods?"  _He’s cute and reads comics. Oh my god. What’s going on here?_

"Of  _course._ " A blush started to climb the dark-haired boy’s face. "Um. What’s your name?"

"Teddy." Teddy held out a hand. "Ted Theodore Altman."  _Wait, no, dumb joke, dumb joke, he’ll think you’re lame—_

"No shit? Nice to meet you, Teddy! I’m Billy." They shake hands. "Billy Kaplan.  _Esquire._ ”

_HE’S PERFECT._

Then the lights flickered, and a cheery voice said, “I found you! It took  _so much hunting,_  but I found you  _both!_ ”

They jumped, startled, and Billy said, “Who’s there?”

“ _Oooooh,_  nobody. Just a fan. You know how  _hard_  it is to find exactly the right couple across this many dimensions? I mean, I tried to get the  _actual_  superhero ones, but they just got  _pissed_  and then teleported away.” The lights flickered again, and two costumes fell from the ceiling. “Here, put these on. We’re going to play superheroes!”

Billy and Teddy stared at the pile of clothing. Teddy said, slowly, “Is that a Hulkling costume?”

"Hey, you’ve read the comics! It totally is!"

Billy picks up a cape from the pile. “And this is Wiccan. You’re dressing us up as Hulkling and Wiccan? To play superheroes?”

"And you’re…" Teddy frowned. "A fan. Wait. Are you from the fifth dimension?"

There was a pause, and then the disembodied voice said, “Mmmmaybe.”

"Are you, like…Bat-Mite or something? Is this some weird fifth-dimensional fanfiction thing?"

"…it  _might_  be.”

Billy was already blushing, but now he turned bright red. “You want us to act out your fanfiction?”

There was a nervous laugh, and then the disembodied voice said, “Look, are you two going to put on the costumes and make out or  _not?_ ”

The two boys looked at each other for a long moment and then scrambled for the pile of clothes.


	4. Loki-Mite, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cris-art asked:  
> LOL! Teddy and Billy in the fanfiction! YEAAAAAAAH! hahaha!! there is a possibility that you write a sequel? ♥♥

"So we’re  _actually_  Wiccan and Hulkling? In this other universe?”

They’re sprawled on the floor, side by side, somewhat out of breath. They fought an imaginary Doctor Doom, and then made out. And then they were space pirates, and then they made out some more. Fought Ultron. Made out. Fought  _Swarm._  Made out.

The disembodied voice is  _very demanding._

"Oh yeah," it says. "You get up to all kinds of stuff there. It’s a shame your lives are so boring here."

Teddy looks offended. “My life’s not  _boring!_ ”

"It  _so_  is. You’re not a  _Skrull,_  you’re not a  _superhero,_  you’re just a weird art school kid and you won’t even have  _sex!_ ”

"We’re not going to have sex! You’re  _watching_  us! And also we only met three hours ago!”

"I mean. We  _could._ ”

He turns red, looking over at Billy with wide eyes. “We  _could?_ ”

"I don’t know." Billy smiles slyly. "If you’d like to. But not with the creepy floating voice watching us."

"Would it help if I  _wasn’t_  a creepy floating voice?” Before they can answer, there’s a  _poof_  noise, and then floating in front of them is—

"Oh my god." Billy making a little choking sound. "You’re not Bat-Mite. You’re  _Loki-_ Mite.”

Loki-Mite grins. He looks like he’s in severe danger of collapsing under the weight of his helmet, especially as he’s only two feet tall. “Does this help?”

 _"No!"_  Teddy moves in front of Billy, horrified. “You’re a tiny Loki and you kidnapped us to make us kiss!”

"You seemed pretty pleased about it. And I’m not  _actually_  Loki, I’m just a big fan. He’s very popular in the fifth dimension!”

"Send us home  _right now._ ”

Loki-Mite pouts.  _"Fine."_

 _Poof,_  and—

"Well. Uh." Billy blinks. "So I’m still dressed like Wiccan. And you’re still dressed like Hulkling. And he just sort of…sent us both back to my dorm room? Welcome to NYU, by the way. Kinda glad I’ve got a single."

Teddy looks at the movie posters on the walls, the stack of comic books by the bed, and the detailed action figure tableau on the bookshelf, and feels immediately at home. “It’s a pretty nice room, actually. My roomie at Pratt is totally uptight, he complains whenever I decorate.”

"Man, that  _sucks._  So where were we?”

"Well, if I’m remembering correctly, we were doing a House of M AU, and we’d just defeated Queen Veranke, and I was about to. Uh. Carry you back to your room to have my powerful Skrull way with you."

"Wanna just pick up there?"

"Um.  _Sure._  …Loki-Mite better not be watching, though.”


	5. Can't Take The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meri47 asked:  
> For your latest meme: Superman & Batman, plus the rest of the League if you feel like it, running around in the Firefly verse.

"Bruce, what are you  _doing?_ ”

"Flying under the radar." Bruce torques the steering bar hard, sending the ship spinning away from the Alliance ship they’ve been tailing and under its belly.

"You’re going to crash my ship!"

Ollie leans in from the hall, eyes wide. “The hell was that? Clark, you letting the Bat drive again? Hal’ll go nuts if he finds out you changed his seat set-up.”

"Hh." Bruce’s mouth twitches. He’s almost smiling. But not quite. "He’ll live. Have to find Reynolds."

Clark groans. “I don’t know why I always come to you for help. You’re a maniac.”

"You do it because you trust me, Clark." The ship takes another wild dive. "We’ll find your man. And Commander Luthor’s Alliance won’t be able to stop us."


	6. Dairine Callahan, Vampire Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meri47 asked:  
> For your latest meme: Dairine Callahan, vampire slayer.
> 
> (Yes, the title is uncreative, but it works.)

"Neets! I could use a little backup here!"

The stake is out of Nita’s hand before she even thinks about it. Dairine catches it one-handed, plunges it into the vampire’s chest, and sneezes violently at the explosion of dust.

Three more vampires later and Dairine flops onto the ground with a melodramatic sigh. “This sucks  _majorly._  I have a test tomorrow!”

"And I  _don’t?_ " Nita sits down next to her. "You never do anything the easy way, do you, Dair? Some people are cheerleaders or study geniuses or  _wizards_  or something, but no. You had to be the  _Chosen One._ ”

Dairine wrinkles her nose. “Hey, anything to be more hardcore than you, Neets. Granola bar?”

Nita accepts the granola bar gratefully.

"You kissed Kit yet?"

 _"Dair!"_  A pause. “ _No._  How are things going with your anime vampire prince boy?”

"Roshaun’s not a  _vampire!_  And also  _nothing’s_ going!”


	7. First Impressions (Multiverse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geoboy-world asked:  
> For the prompt, the X-men and Justice League (from BDM) meet for the first time

Scott frowns. “Is the gate working? I thought these Justice League types were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”

"It’s fine!" Hank grins at him, hammering something back into place. " _Just_  fine. I texted Reed, everything’s working out all right.”

"Good. Good. Ems, the students know we have company coming, right?"

"If someone’s managed to  _miss_  the announcement, I’d like to find out how.” She crosses her arms over her chest, lips pursed. “It’s not as if we entertain other heroes often. Or congregate in the front hall in costume.”

"A- _ha!_  It’s  _working!_ ”

"Henry, dear, I thought you said it  _was_  working.”

"It is! It’s working now!"

The gate shimmers and solidifies, and after a moment the Justice Leaguers start stepping through. At their head is a massive man in red and blue, who beams, holding out an enormous hand, and says, “You must be Cyclops. I’m Superman.”

"Pleased to meet you, Superman."

They shake hands.

Emma watches them, interested. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much Boy Scout in one place. It’s practically blinding.”

The statuesque woman standing next to her nods. “Is yours powered by the sun as well?”

"Actually, yes." Emma actually has to look  _up_  to make eye contact. “Emma Frost.”

The other woman’s hand is warm, her grip strong. “Wonder Woman.”

"I think our teams will get along quite well."


	8. A Savant Of Mars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shaded-mazoku asked:  
> A little late, perhaps, but better late than never, yes? Savant/Creote, in space! (Aliens optional)

"This is unwise, sir."

"You haven’t called me sir in  _weeks._ ”

"Years, sir."

_"Years."_

"I thought maybe the novelty would get your attention."

Brian hefts his ray gun, his hair floating around his face inside his helmet—even in its current ponytail it’s hard to control in low gravity. “So why is it unwise?”

"We’re infiltrating the Martian base. Just the two of us."

"Yes! A trained space commando and the one of the finest martial artists in the solar system!"

"This is unwise."

"They have Dinah! I owe her!"

Sasha just looks at him.

He sighs. “They have my ship.”

"Good." Sasha pats him on the shoulder. "As long as you admit it."

"Once we get it back we’re going to steal a time machine, go find Edgar Rice Burroughs, and tell him how wrong he was."

"As you wish, Brian."


	9. Secret Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spegelherren asked:  
> Secret Six coffee shop AU bc I don't think I've seen it and that's a thing all fandoms must have.

"You are not eating enough."

Scandal looks up from her coffee, her eyes red. “What?”

"You are not eating enough." The massive man behind the counter stares down at her,  _almost_ impassively, and then hands her a plate with a toasted scone. “Eat.”

"Bane, I’m fine, I don’t need to—"

"Eat." He refills her coffee, and then passes her a glass of water as well. "And drink some water. If the owner passes out in the shop it does not reflect well on the business." And then, without raising his voice or looking over, "Thomas, if you drop those plates they will be taken out of your pay."

Thomas sniffs as he edges past, carrying a stack of ten plates in each hand. “Never dropped a plate in my life. I have  _perfect_  balance. Ass.”

"You are fired."

"Bane, he’s not fired, stop saying that."

The regular down the counter snorts into his coffee. “Sis, I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard you three have that conversation and I’d be a rich man.”

Scandal covers her mouth to hide her laughter. Thomas rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Floyd, the only reason we haven’t kicked you out is because we feel sorry for you.”

"Haven’t kicked me out ‘cause you  _want_  my sweet ass, Tommy-boy.”

"In your fevered liquor dreams."

Bane raises an eyebrow and then pushes the scone towards Scandal again. “Scandal. Eat.”


	10. Someone Needs A Minder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tandlerovmusic asked:  
> For some reason, I was really in the mood for meta-fiction today. But here's some other AU's that have crossed my mind: Tim/Kon - Ethnographer!Tim is studying Meta youth culture for his Anthro degree. ANY KIND OF CATLAD!TIM AU YOU DESIRE. Savant/Creote: Artist!Brian and Model!Creote

Sasha knocks on the door of the brownstone, frowning faintly. Since the Service was disbanded his life has taken him to some strange places, but he’s never been so down on his luck before as to be answering want ads in the Gotham Gazette. This one was simply a request for an artist’s model, male, but the rate of pay offered was enough to raise an eyebrow.

Ideally the man Sasha spoke to on the phone will not turn out to be some sort of serial killer. He would hate to have to explain a body to the police.

He knocks again, then rings the bell.

The sound of feet, and then the door opens, and he’s confronted by a man so staggeringly beautiful that he’s really not sure what to say except, “Ah…Brian Durlin?”

The beautiful man blinks. “Yes, that’s me. Who are you?”

"Aleksandr Creote. We spoke yesterday? You wished to hire a model?"

"Oh, yes. Yes. For my new painting. That’s good, you’re perfect, I’m very pleased." He sounds like he’s out of breath. "That was yesterday? I thought it was this morning."

"No, it…it was yesterday."

"I see. Yes. Excellent. Come in!"

—

By the time three hours have gone by, Sasha has a deep-seated ache in his muscles of the kind he hasn’t felt since the last time he sat on a stakeout and he’s certain of two things:

  1. He’s in love.
  2. Brian needs a minder of some kind.



Finally the painter puts his brush down and says, faintly puzzled, “What was I just thinking? …oh. Yes. We should eat. Would you like lunch?”

Sasha smiles at him, says, “Yes, please,” and follows him—into a room which certainly isn’t a kitchen.

Brian frowns. “I’ve gone in the wrong direction, haven’t I.”

"I believe I saw it this way." Sasha puts a hand on Brian’s arm, gently steering him around. "Tell me, do you get lost often?"

"Sometimes, yes." They reach the kitchen, and Brian starts getting out sandwich fixings of some kind. "I have a condition. I have difficulties with linear time. I’m supposed to take medication for it, but I frequently forget. I’ve thought about hiring an assistant, but nobody ever seems willing to move in. They don’t want to put up with the models coming and going."

Sasha regards him briefly and then says, “Excellent. I will start tomorrow.”

"Start what?"

"Assisting you."

"Oh! Would you like the position?" Brian frowns. "Which floor would you like to sleep on?"


	11. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> persychan asked:  
> Ok, it's not very original, but a Creote/Savant Vampire!Au? XD

The vampire swoops through the window, lands on the floor, and then stops, frowning. “I’ve come to the wrong house.”

"Not at all. Ms. Gordon has been moved somewhere safe." Sasha salutes with his crossbow. "I have been expecting you. Aleksandr Creote, vampire hunter. At your service."

"They brought in an actual  _hunter?_  To defeat  _me?_ " The vampire looks almost pleased, but then he scoffs. "That’s a shame for you, since I’m invincible."

In response, Sasha simply fires his crossbow.

 

The vampire dodges smoothly, but the crossbow bolt passes through his hair as he moves aside. Before he straightens, though, Sasha is up, a stake in his hand, and the fight is on.

Sasha has strength, but the vampire has speed and precision, and his movements are bizarrely unpredictable. It is, at least initially, a close contest of strike and dodge, strike and dodge.

And then the vampire slips, and Sasha gets a hand in his impractically loose hair and raises the stake—

The vampire  _flinches._

He’s never seen a vampire do that before.

And then the vampire says, “Please don’t kill me.”

Sasha frowns. “Why shouldn’t I? You’ve killed others.”

"I most certainly have not."

"There were many reports of vampire attacks in Gotham—"

"Which were  _reported_  because nobody  _died._ " The vampire sniffs, offended. "Do you think I’d be that messy otherwise? Anyway, I have to eat  _somehow._ ”

"You… _are_  aware that there are ways to obtain blood without attacking people, yes?”

"I…" The vampire’s brow crinkles. "I suppose there are. It never occurred to me before."

Sasha makes a snap decision, grabs something from his coat pocket, and slaps it onto one of the vampire’s wrists.

The vampire says,  _"Ow!_  What was—”

"By the laws of all worlds, demon, you are now bound to my word, and will remain so bound until such time as I release you." Sasha lets go of his hair. "I hereby enjoin you to do no harm to any living being unless told to do so  _specifically_  by me.”

"Did you just—" The vampire looks at the cuff on his wrist, eyes wide as he reads over the sigils with which it’s carved. "You  _did._  I. I’m actually  _impressed._ ”

Sasha moves towards the door. “Come. You will need to eat tonight if your impulses are to be controlled. What is your name?”

"Brian." The vampire follows him out. "I’m  _very_ impressed. Plenty of people have  _tried_  to kill me before, but you’re the only one who ever got close. And then you  _didn’t._  And no one’s  _ever_  bound me before. Although someone did try yesterday. Or maybe it was last year.” _  
_

As they leave the building, Sasha glances back at Brian, at his gleaming blue eyes and his oddly cheerfully smile, and starts to worry.

The vampire is  _very_  pretty.

It may be affecting his judgement.


	12. The Trap (Multiverse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> young titans try to trick tim and kon into a date

_At the Young Titans Interdimensional Mission Base/Love Shack/Carol and Shelly’s guest house_

Kon’s in position.

Billy double-taps his comm unit and whispers, “Operation TimKon is go.”

 

Across the room, the girls wink at him, and then Cassie Sandsmark turns back to Stephanie and says, just loudly enough to be generally audible, “Wait, Tim said  _what_  about Kon?”

There’s a faint clatter from the next room, and then a sudden stillness as Cassie Lang says, “Tim thinks he’s  _cute._  Isn’t that  _adorable?_ ”

—

A couple of hours later, Tim’s working on the computer. Teddy and M’gann are at the other end of the room playing chess, and when the moment is right, Teddy leans across the chessboard and murmurs, “So, Meg. What’re your thoughts on the Kon thing?”

Tim goes very still at the keyboard.

M’gann looks thoughtful. “Well, I  _do_  think he should give it a shot, but if Tim isn’t actually  _interested_  he’ll be  _crushed._  That would be a shame to see.”

—

That evening, the agents of Operation TimKon meet in the laundry room, and Kate says, “All right, people. We’ve piqued their interest. I’m on date detail for Tim; who’s going to be asking Kon?”

Cassie Lang grins. “I’m on it.”

—

Tim and Kon get to the restaurant within minutes of each other and stare, confused. The maitre d’ raises an eyebrow. “Bishop? Party of two?”

Tim coughs nervously. “Uh. Yes? Um, is there another one under Lang for my friend?”

"No. This reservation specifies you and the other young gentleman. The meal has already been paid for."

Kon watches Tim out of the corner of his eye, going slightly red.

Tim swallows hard and nods. “Um. Ok. Lead the way.”


	13. The Sweetest Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zethsaire asked:  
> Tommy/Noh Vampire AU. Only Noh is still a Kree, and Tommy's the vampire. Kree blood tastes better than anything he's ever tried before...

Tommy sits up with a hiss, his mouth bloody. “You are  _delicious._ ”

Noh-Varr snorts. “I should think so. Kree are superior to humans in every way; it’s hardly surprisingly that we taste better.”

Tommy glows in the moonlight coming in through the window. It’s not just his mouth that’s stained; there’s a trickle of blood running down his chin and neck to his chest. “It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

He licks the blood off his lips and then dives in again for another bite, sucking until he grows flushed and Noh-Varr grabs his hair and pulls him away with a growled, “No more for now.”

Tommy looks down at him and then grins. “You know, I could  _use_  a man like you.”

"I’m sure you could." Noh-Varr doesn’t look impressed. "But for what?"

"How’s dismantling society sound?"

Noh-Varr raises an eyebrow. “ _That_  I could get interested in.”


	14. Sharp-Dressed Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I'm not too late for the AU meme, right? Billy and Teddy's senior prom in the kidfic universe.

"I’m wearing a tuxedo. I feel stupid."

"You look good in a tux. Could be worse, you could  _be_  your tux.”

"Oh my god did you  _morph your tuxedo on._ ”

"I. Maybe." Teddy looks to one side nervously. "I just. Mom said it’d be good practice.  _What if I get nervous and it morphs away._ ”

"Then the prom’ll be a lot more exciting." Billy grins at him. "Or Professor Summers will freak out. Maybe both. Pantsless on the dance floor."

"If y’all don’t stop droolin’ on each other I’mma turn on the hose!"

Billy doesn’t even turn his head to shout, “Shut up, Jay!”

"Gonna be late for prom, you sappy idiots! I’ll be gettin’ my mack on with Noriko while you two’re still busy adjustin’ each other’s bow-ties."

This time Teddy says it. “Shut up, Jay!”

—

And later in the evening, when they finally get to the prom, they get out onto the dance floor—and the lights go down.

Except for one.

Billy murmurs, “Shit. Heat’s on now, isn’t it.”

A new song starts, a woman’s faint voice cooing about alien princes, and Teddy grins down at him. “Come on, babe. They’re playing our song.”

They dance.

Mid-song, they kiss, everyone applauds, and Billy whispers, “We’re gross, aren’t we.”

"We’re totally gross."

"I knew we got Cutest Couple for a reason."


	15. Make Some Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Kidfic!AU: Tommy takes Noh-Varr home to Wanda and Vision. Hilarity ensues.

They don’t even bother to unlock the door. Tommy just vibrates them through it, grinning, and slams Noh-Varr into the wall next to the coat rack. “Tag.” Mouth on mouth. “You’re it.”

Spin and  _wham_  and now it’s Tommy against the wall. “I don’t think I know that reference.” More kissing.

"Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid. So do Kree make out?"

"Not typically, although we can be persuaded."

 

"All  _right,_  then.” Tommy pulls him towards the living room. “Lemme show you how we do it on  _Earth._ ”

As they fall onto the couch, Noh-Varr says, mildly, “I don’t  _like_  how things are done on Earth.”

Tommy wriggles out of his hoodie. “A lot of it’s bullshit. But there’s some worthwhile stuff.”

Noh-Varr looks down at his t-shirt with a raised eyebrow. “Who’s Magneto? And why was he right?”

"My granddad." Tommy slides his hands inside Noh-Varr’s jacket, pulling it off him with some insistence. "He’s fucking awesome." Toes his own sneakers off and knocks them onto the floor. "He’s a political radical. You’d love him."

"Would I?" Noh-Varr kisses him again. He’s been spiking his hair up lately; now it droops in his eyes, brushing Tommy’s forehead.

"Q and I are going to go join him soon. Cause some  _real_  chaos.”

"I like chaos, that’s enjoyable."

"You could come with us, then. You’ve got that spaceship." Tommy rolls his hips upward and licks his lips obscenely. "You could be my  _ride._ ”

Noh-Varr just raises an eyebrow and pins him to the couch.

They don’t hear the door unlocking. They don’t hear the footsteps.

They  _do_  hear, “Boys, are you—oh!”

And they both go very still.

Tommy says, slowly, “Uh. HI, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

Noh-Varr looks over at them. “Good afternoon, Vision. Ms. Maximoff.”

The Vision’s eyes flicker. “Thomas. Noh-Varr.”

Wanda’s face is bright red. “How…how was school?”

Tommy coughs. “School was fine. I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you I’m bi.”


	16. Visitors From Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Sci-fi/Western AU: Billy, Tommy and Kate are the cowboys (and girl), Teddy and Noh are the aliens.

There’s a roar overhead, and Kate pumps her shotgun with a loud  _click._  “Boys, I don’t know what-all that thing is, but I don’t like it!”

Tommy’s already on his horse. “Gettin’ the cows in!”

Billy’s on his horse seconds after, galloping around the ranch, shooing all the hands into the storm cellar while chickens squawk and shriek underfoot. “This better not be some trick from Striker’s boys!”

 

The first warning shot booms overhead as the barn doors swing shut, and Kate roars, “Show yourselves, whoever you are!”

Grass flattens in the wind as the massive thing touches down in the cow pasture. Tommy scowls. “The hell  _is_  it?”

Kate fires another warning shot. “Show yourselves or I swear to God Almighty I’ll blow your asses up!”

There’s a pause, and then a hiss as a ramp lowers from the thing, and Billy stares. “It’s a  _ship._ ”

Another moment, and—“And that’s a  _green goddamn alien._ ”

Tommy elbows him. “It’s a blond alien, Bill.”

"It’s  _also green,_  Tom.”

The green, blond alien waves to them amiably. “Please don’t shoot me.” His English is passable, if heavily accented. “I think we’ve taken a wrong turn. Is this Mars?”

Kate gapes, the nose of the shotgun dipping. “Uh. No. This’s Arizona.”

"I  _told_  them we were going too far.” The green alien turns back to shout into the ship, “Noh-Varr! Missy! We went too far!”

A white-haired, mostly humanoid head pops out.  _This_  alien has an irritated expression on his face. “I  _told_  her we were going too far.”

"Since when does she listen to us?" The green alien grins, waving to the baffled ranch owner and her right-hand men. "Sorry we bothered you."

The other two are still staring, so Billy makes a snap decision. “Y’all wanna come in for dinner?”


	17. Temp Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> persychan asked:  
> If you still accept Au prompt, I've this one (it's more a What is if, I think): Savant e Creote as member (partime (?) or fulltime(??)) or the Secret Six

"Sis, tell me again why we needed an Oracle of our very own?"

Scandal rolls her eyes, though she keeps both hands on the steering wheel. “Because sometimes we come up against threats we weren’t prepared for, and it’s good to have research backup? I checked him out, he’s good for it.”

"I don’t trust him. Too pretty."

_"You realize I can hear you all talking about me, right?"_

"You’re actin’ like I give a shit if you hear me."

_"I’m going to walk you off a cliff and laugh while you fall."_

A pause, and then Floyd stifles a laugh. “Yeah, ok, I like him.”

 _"I’m glad to know you think I’m pretty, though."_  

There’s a rumble next to Floyd, and he looks up grinning into Creote’s disapproving face. “Nothing meant by it, big guy.”

Creote raises an eyebrow. “I should hope not.”

Ragdoll shrugs sinuously.  _"He’s better company than Bane, at least."_

Jeannette covers her mouth to hide her smile and leans over to murmur to Scandal, “I think these new recruits may work out after all.”

—

"Go go go!"

_"You’re coming up on a wall, you’ll need to get over it. There may be guards ahead; send someone over to take care of them first."_

Thomas nods. “I’ll do it. Creote, boost me up.”

Creote nods.

There’s a small huffing noise under the comms.  _"And tell Mr. Catman to keep his hands to himself."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one I'm going to continue later. ^_^


	18. Change Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tandlerovmusic asked:  
> Tim/Roy - Bodyswap. BUT with a twist: Tim and Roy haven't actually met in person yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point we move on to [another meme](http://dangerouscommiesubversive.tumblr.com/post/72557466094/ruingaraf-i-saw-this-list-of-30-day-cheesy), which isn't _all_ AUs, but it's _mostly_ AUs, so I put it in this one.
> 
> The original text of the meme:
> 
> "I saw this list of 30 day cheesy trope challenge for shipping, but since I’m a lazy loser how about you just throw a ship/bromance and a number in my ask. K? K.
> 
> 1\. Coffee Shop AU  
> 2\. Idol/Fan  
> 3\. Anonymous Love Letters  
> 4\. Angel/Demon AU  
> 5\. Bartender AU  
> 6\. Spin the Bottle  
> 7\. Stuck Someplace Together in Winter  
> 8\. Sex Pollen AU  
> 9\. Matching Soulmate Markings  
> 10\. Deserted Island  
> 11\. Meet in a Dream  
> 12\. Arranged Marriage AU  
> 13\. Handcuffed Together  
> 14\. Stripper AU  
> 15\. Office Romance AU  
> 16\. Seven Minutes in Heaven  
> 17\. Noble/Peasant AU  
> 18\. Orphan AU  
> 19\. Vampire AU  
> 20\. Magic Spell  
> 21\. Superhero AU  
> 22\. Online Relationship  
> 23\. Mythical Creature/Human  
> 24\. Mistletoe  
> 25\. High School AU  
> 26\. Elevator Meeting  
> 27\. Body Swap  
> 28\. Fairy Tale AU _My note: (this one was originally a “genderbend AU” but as that term is actually really offensive/cissexist I’ve changed it to something that plays more to my strengths)_  
>  29\. Clothes Sharing  
> 30\. ~~Zombie AU~~ _My note: I don’t zombies you can’t have any zombies but you can ask me for a Cyberpunk AU_ "

_Change Clothes_

Roy swims back up to consciousness and bugs the  _fuck_  out. “Holy  _shit, Batman,_  when did  _you_ get here?” His voice cracks as he says it. Since when does his voice still crack?

Batman frowns.  _Oh god why is Batman frowning?_  “Robin, do you know where you are?”

"I’m not Robin! Wait, am I Robin? I didn’t think there  _was_  a Robin right now. Is this a dream? Or an alternate dimension? Is this Earth-five jillion or something?”

Batman peers at him, leans forward, shines a penlight into his eyes—“Ow!”—and then sits back on his heels. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

"I was on a roof, about to meet up with Ollie, and there was a flash of blue light."

"With  _Ollie?_ " Batman looks thoughtful for a moment. "The voice hasn’t changed…is that you, Roy?"

"Well,  _yeah._  You don’t recognize me?”

In response Batman holds up a mirror.

—

_Meanwhile_

Tim wakes up,  _sits_  up, and gets an immediate head rush. He frowns. “Why am I taller?”

"You haven’t grown an inch, kid. You feeling all right?"

"I feel—Green Arrow? What are  _you_  doing here?”

Green Arrow seems faintly offended. “ _You_  called me, Roy. Said you wanted to meet up, talk about something. And then there was that flash and you fainted. Any idea what happened? Your vitals seem fine.”

"I. Wait, did you just call me  _Roy?_ ”

Green Arrow frowns and starts digging in his pocket. “I think I oughtta see if you have a concussion.”

—

Roy drinks a glass of juice, feeling puzzled. He  _asked_  for a beer, but apparently thirteen-year-old body means thirteen-year-old rules. “I’d forgotten there  _was_  a new Robin. I feel kinda bad for not introducing myself. So was it magic?”

Batman is busy at a console, reading rapidly through screen after screen of incomprehensible-to-Roy data. “No. It was some kind of alien technology. I need to call Martian Manhunter.  _You_  stay put.”

"You say that like I’ve  _done_  something.”

"How do I know you won’t?" Eye glint.

"Did you just make a  _joke?_  You have an actual sense of  _humor?_   _Now_  I’m freaked out.”

Just then, though, a little buzzer goes off. Batman slaps a flashing button, and one of the other monitors lights up and displays Ollie’s face.

Ollie grins. “Hey, Bats. We have a situation, right?”

Roy waves. “Hey, Ollie!”

"Hey, kid. That Roy in there, or are we in a bigger mess than I thought?"

"No, it’s me."

"Good, that makes things easier."

Batman’s been waiting patiently. “Do you have Robin there? I’m contacting J’onn, he should be able to help us sort this out.”

"Yeah, he’s here."

Roy’s  _own face_  pops up on the monitor, which is a little disconcerting, and the not-him—presumably Robin—says, in a serious tone, “Hello, you must be Roy.”

"Uh, yeah. Hi. This is weird."

"This is  _really_  weird.”

"Nice to meet you."

Robin/him smiles suddenly. “Nice to meet you too.”


	19. Elevator Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> decaykid asked:  
> Billy/Teddy 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 26: Elevator meeting

Bill Kaplan straightens his tie, bites his lip, and takes a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen…wait, no, Ms. President, members of the board…shit, wait,  _honored_  members of the…I can’t get this right.” He hangs his head. “They’ll never go for it.”

The elevator dings to a stop, and he almost loses it completely, but no, it’s  _not_  his floor. Someone else is getting on with him.

Someone…

He blinks.

 

Someone blond. And broad-shouldered. And green-eyed. And  _unbelievably hot_  and is that a tailored suit? A  _hot guy_  in a  _bespoke suit_  is getting onto the elevator and smiling at him. “Going up?”

He nods and says, weakly, “Yeah. Yeah, going up. Top floor.”

"Oh, good, that’s where I’m going too." His teeth are  _so white._  “Board meeting for you too?”

"That’s the one."  _Snap out of it, Kaplan._  “Uh.” He holds out a hand. “Bill Kaplan, from R and D. Pleased to meet you.”

"Ted Altman. Marketing." His hand is warm. "So what’s bringing you under the Khaleesi’s eye?"

"Well, I’m pitching a new product that I—did you just call  _Kate Bishop_  the Khaleesi?”

"What, do you  _not_  think she’s keeping a pet dragon in that spare room in her office suite?”

"I think she  _is_  the dragon. I mean, she’s sort of the dragon from  _Shrek,_  but still. Dragon.”

Ted Altman, Marketing, laughs, and his voice is honey. “I can see it. So what’s your pitch?”

Bill holds up his portfolio. “It’s. Uh. Well, it’s a line of gender-neutral magic-themed electronic toys. Wand that fires cold sparks, little light-up talismans…you know, for kids. Magic for beginners.”

"That sounds  _great._ " And Ted Altman, Marketing’s eyes light up, like he actually  _means_ it, like he’s not just saying it to make Bill feel better. “Better then what I’ve got.”

"Photos of moodily-lit tubes of toothpaste?"

"Basically. The board’s going to eat me."

 _Ding,_  and there’s one floor to go, and Bill’s going to do something  _really stupid_  right now. “How about let’s make a bet. If we both survive this, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Ted Altman, Marketing’s eyes—flick down Bill’s body, and then back up again, and then instead of edging away he smiles wider. “But what if we don’t survive?”

Half again, half again, half again onwards. “Then I’ll buy you  _two_  drinks. As a consolation prize.”

The warm hand on his again. “You’re on.”


	20. Political Acts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fatallywhimsical asked:  
> quentin/idie 29 (basically i want quentin in a skirt SUE ME)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 29: Clothes sharing

Rachel Summers raises an eyebrow. “Mr. Quire, I assume you have an explanation for this?”

Quentin smooths down his skirt demurely. “It’s a political statement.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Of  _course_  it is.”

Down the hall, Idie hikes up her shorts, adjusts her badge-covered jacket, and hollers,  _"Anarchy!"_

"Idie’s impression of you is almost sweet. How did you convince her to give you her skirt?"

"She suggested it, actually." He grins. "We spent all last night talking about politics."

Rachel sighs. “Of course. That’s just what you need.” She stares at Quentin for a moment. “Well, you’re not breaking any rules, so you don’t get detention. But Mr. Quire…”

"Yes?"

"Next time you decide to wear a skirt to class, I suggest you coordinate better. Those shoes do  _not_ match.”


	21. Board Room/Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> decaykid asked:  
> Karla Sofen/Victoria Hand 29?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 29: Clothes sharing.
> 
> Warning for homophobic language and some violence.

They’re halfway through a meeting when Daken sits up straight for the first time all day, turns to Karla, and says, “Why are you wearing Victoria’s shirt?”

Everything stops.  _Every_  man at the table turns to look at Karla, who says, calmly, “I don’t know  _what_  you mean.”

"No blonde with your coloring would be caught  _dead_  in that shade.” He smirks. “Not that I set much store by your fashion sense. But it also  _smells_  like her.”

"Wait, are you saying she’s—" Mac’s brow wrinkles in confusion. "She slept with  _Bullseye_ ,  _she’s_  not a dyke.”

Osborn buries his face in his hands. Daken just  _looks_  at Mac. “Your ignorance is almost endearing.”

 

Miss Hand adjusts her glasses. “I don’t see how this has any relevance to the matter at hand. I believe we  _were_  discussing the possibility of  _Bullseye,_  if you don’t take your hand off my leg I will  _remove it._ ”

Lester doesn’t move his hand. “Y’know, I thought you were kind of a butterface at first, but knowin’  _this_  just makes you—” _  
_

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Victoria’s grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm around behind his back, and slammed him face down into the conference table. “As I was saying,” she continues, “we were discussing the possibility of an appearance at an upcoming charity ball to benefit widows and orphans of the Skrull invasion.”

"We’re going to talk about this later," Daken hisses to Karla, who responds by smiling at him and then kicking him in the ankle so hard that everyone in the room can hear bone splintering.

When the meeting’s over they all get up to leave, but Victoria says, “Karla, I’d like to speak with you further.”

Osborn stalks away, Bob wanders off in the hazy way that he does everything, but Daken, Mac, and Lester cluster around the door to listen in on the conversation.

They hear Karla purring, “I didn’t know you knew  _judo,_  Vicki. That was a  _very_  nice throw.”

"You will  _address_  me as  _Miss Hand._ " A pause. "How do you  _live_  with this much underwire?”

"That’ll teach you to  _look_  before you go grabbing a bra off the floor, won’t it?”

Victoria letting out an unladylike snort. “ _You_ took  _my_  shirt.”

"Yes, but that was on  _purpose._ ”

There’s a rustling sound, and then Daken’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t explain whatever it is he’s noticed that the other two didn’t. And then Victoria, voice low. “My room. Eleven o’clock tonight.”

And Karla breathes, “Yes,  _ma’am._ ”


	22. Repeat After Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zethsaire asked:  
> Cyberpunk AU - Nohmmy or JayTim. And Vampire Loki. (Kid Loki AoA Loki, Loki/Discord...whatevs.)

Tommy’s making good time through the facility, the dummy package under his arm, his courier uniform shading from its bright green and white to darker stealth colors, when Billy says in his earpiece,  _"Stop."_

"Yeah, yeah, ok, what?"

His goggles are flickering in a way that mean’s Billy’s zooming in on something in his line of sight.  _"What’s that sign say?"_

Tommy squints at it. “Testing Lab, Authorized Personnel Only.”

He can hear Billy typing, faintly, and then his tube-twin says,  _"Congratulations, you’re authorized. Go check it out."_

 

"Billy, that’s not the mission—"

_"Humor me?"_

"Ugh.  _Fine._ ”

The door slides open at his touch, and he steps in and scans the area. “It’s just a  _lab,_  Billy, it doesn’t have any—whoa,  _whoa._ ”

_"What? What is it?"_

"There’s a  _guy_  in here.”

_"Show me."_

Tommy approaches the little surgery bay tentatively and stares down at the man inside. He’s lying still, a mask strapped over his face and _bolted to the bay_ , but his eyes are open. He’s  _watching Tommy._

_"What does that placard say, the one on the end of the bay?"_

"Uh…Kree test subject number one, codenamed Morrison. Billy, he’s  _awake._ ”

 _"He’s an_ alien. _Holy shit.”_  Tommy’s goggles flicker again.  _"Tommy, you see that keypad? I want you to type in…hang on…6162."_

Tommy types the code in, and the bay unlocks. “Wait, what are we doing?”

_"Ok, now put in 5252."_

"Billy…" But he does it anyway.

The bolts on the mask pop open.

"Oh,  _shit—_ ”

The alien  _roars_  out of the bay, and Tommy’s flat on his back on the lab floor now, and the alien is snarling something that he can’t understand.

His goggles flicker, and flicker, and flicker, and Billy says,  _"Shit, uh, tell him—"_  and then some other gabble.

Tommy does his best to repeat it.

The alien stops, tilts his head curiously, and then says something else.

_"Ok, you’re going to introduce yourself, say—"_

Tommy repeats the incomprehensible words obediently, inserting his name where Billy says it should go.

The alien snorts, nods, and then points to his own chest. “Noh-Varr.” And then something else that Billy  _laughs_  at.

_"He says your accent is terrible."_

"What are you having me  _say_  to him?”

_"Well, next you’re going to offer to help him get out of here. Repeat after me—"_


	23. Summer's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiragecko asked:  
> Arranged marriages and BillyTeddy always make me happy. Or a noble/peasant Emma/Scott thing. Either of them in either position would amuse, actually.

An overflowing river stops the procession mid-day, and Emma is glad of it. She’s tired, saddle-sore and too warm for comfort, and in any case there’s a town here, with an  _inn,_  and an inn means a bath, a soft seat, and hot food cooked by someone at least marginally competent—so, none of the people she travels with.

Luckily, Westchester’s also a trade stop, so the inn is prepared for a party of this size. Soon their horses are tied up and eating, the servants and soldiers are picnicking in the yard, and Emma herself is enthroned in a curtained alcove at one end of the main room. The others of her party do not eat with her. She’s had enough of their company.

She smiles into her tea. Who would have thought a flood capable of being so considerate?

Outside her alcove she hears a voice with the beginnings of a military tone delivering orders to the serving-folk, and she pulls aside the curtain to see—

It’s a  _blind_  man. He can’t be much older than her, if he’s older at all. Eighteen, at the outside. His eyes are bound, but under the blindfold he has a fine face, a mouth made for kissing, and the straight-backed bearing of a career military man.

A girl comes with hot soup, and Emma asks her, “What sort of an inn puts a blind man in charge of so many people?”

The girl—who seems  _very_  young, maybe eleven—says, “That’s Scott, lady. His foster-father’s landlord here.”

"Foster-father? What’s his parentage?"

"He has none, milady. He was found wandering. Everyone just says he’s summer’s son."

"Was he blind then?"

"He isn’t blind  _now,_  only he daren’t open his eyes.” The girl glances to one side. “He’s got an evil gaze. He’s uncanny, milady. But he says he’ll be a great general someday despite it.”

"He’s very handsome, isn’t he? Has he got all the girls in town after him?"

"He  _had_  a girl, milady, but she was a witch. They tried to burn her, but she made the fire her own, and then she vanished.”

That settles it. “I want  _him_  to serve me. Have him bring me my meat, if he will.” Emma gives the girl a coin. “And hurry about it, little cat.”

 _"Kitty,"_  the girl says, and ducks away.

A few minutes later he arrives, the girl leading him. She has another coin of Emma and then vanishes when Emma waves her away.

Scott puts her plate on the table and then stands waiting, almost at attention. “Kitty said you wanted me, lady.”

"Oh, I  _do._ " Emma smiles, knowing he can’t see it. "She says they call you summer’s son."

"That’s right, milady." He doesn’t  _quite_  smile. “Summer’s as good a father as any.”

"Warmer than mine, Scott, summer’s son." She reaches up to take his hand. "For perhaps it’s fate that  _I_  am winter’s daughter.”

"Is the Baron Frost truly as cold as his name would suggest?" He is  _certainly_  smiling now, though it’s not a smile many would easily see. “And besides, what brings the court soothsayer to my father’s inn?”

"A flood, and nothing more." She traces the lines on his palm with the tip of her finger. "If I could see your eyes I’d read your fortune in them."

"Best not, Lady Frost. My gaze can kill."

"How astonishing." She purses her lips, somehow irrationally pleased by this man, this  _boy her age,_ and then the thought comes to her. “Come with me to the capitol city, summer’s son.”

If he were not blindfolded, now he’d surely be blinking. “Lady? I have responsibilities here.”

"I will leave someone to take your place. I’m  _bored,_  summer’s son. I need a traveling companion.”

"It wouldn’t be proper."

"Come with me and I’ll present you to the King." She hasn’t let go of his hand yet. "And I’ll see about getting you a commission."

He turns as if to glance over his shoulder, and the little hidden smile gets a bit bigger. “If you insist, my lady Frost.” He doesn’t sound as if he’s  _bothered_  by her insistence. “I will go speak to my father.”


	24. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meri47 asked:  
> Spiderwing, #30 (If for whatever reason you can't make it work, surprise me with another BROTP)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 30—Cyberpunk AU

The web-line lowers him slowly, carefully into the lab, and when his hands touch the floor he grins. “Zero.”

His earpiece buzzes.  _"You in, Spider-man?"_

"Like a virus, my friend." From his handstand he arches to his feet, like an acrobat, careful to avoid the sweeping light of the biometric burglar alarm. SpiderSense identifies all the lab equipment for him, not that he doesn’t recognize most of it.

Then it dings, and dings again, a shrieking klaxon that only he can hear. He hisses, brushing his hand over the ‘off’ sensor. “Nightwing. We’re in trouble.”

—

Dick’s on the roof of an Oscorp stackmansion, and the asshole’s hired  _chip ninjas._  What kind of an idiot  _is_  this guy?

He jumps a nunchuk meant for his ankles, laughing. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you tech won’t get you anywhere unless you’ve got  _reflexes_  to match it?”

Of course, the tech  _does_  exist to  _give_  them the reflexes. But it’s way too expensive for Central Casting rent-a-goons like this.

He kicks a chip ninja into a cooling unit. “What, did CC run out of  _real_  mercs?”

_"Nightwing. We’re in trouble."_

And a figure looms out of the shadows behind the air-treatment installation.

 _That_  one isn’t from Central Casting.

"You’re telling  _me._ " Dick leaps to the side to avoid the sweeping blade aimed at his knees and, "Wait,  _what?_ ”

_"We’ve got crossover. Octopus Enterprises’ done a deal with JokerTech."_

"Oh, good." He dances away from another strike and bows. "Hey, Mac. It’s been a while. Seen anyone about that cyborg displacement syndrome yet?"

The Scorpion roars, and smog-dimmed moonlight glints off of his implants.

"I guess not. Drop the bomb, Spider-friend."

_"Goliath Drive-Eater Worm entering the Octopus Enterprises servers in three…two…one…_ _”_


	25. I Like Your Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> madhatt asked:  
> I don't know if my ask got send or not~ Because something weird happened to my Internet just now. Anyway, just in case, I requested Mistletoe or Seven Minutes in Heaven, you can decide, during a party, in civvies :)))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is number 16, Seven Minutes in Heaven. The pairing, since it was in another ask, is Daredevil/Iron Fist

The closet isn’t  _small,_  none of the closets at Avengers Mansion are  _small,_  but it’s  _cramped,_ because this is the closet where they keep weather emergency gear for relief work, and some of it’s in She-Hulk and Thor sizes.

Matt and Danny are stuffed into the one open space, and the door is creaking a little—probably from Jenny, who’s outside, leaning on it and shouting to the rest of the slightly out-of-control Avengers Christmas party, “Seven minutes in  _heaven!_  Countdown starts  _now!_ ”

The  _now_  is bellowed in a way that makes Matt flinch, and then he laughs.  ”So Jen had a lot to drink.”

"I’ll say." Danny scratches the back of his head. "What  _is_  Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

"They stick us in a closet and see if we start to make out or kill each other. Things like that. It’s a game middle schoolers play at sleepovers."

"Oh…so are we  _going_  to make out?” Danny laughs nervously. “Not something I ever considered before. And anyway you, uh, kind of have the advantage over me here, it’s pretty dark, I’m not really used to working blind.”

"You got used to it for a while."

"I cheated a little. Chi powers. You know. Besides, your eye mask isn’t actually completely opaque, although I can see why you wouldn’t know that."

"Do you ever miss pretending to be me?"

"Not really. I mean, if I’m pretending to be you, then who are  _you_  supposed to be? I  _like_  you.”

"But do you  _like_  like me?”

"I—what?"

"Middle school thing again." There’s a little quiver that resolves into Matt laughing silently, slumping forward and throwing his arms around Danny. "Danny, you’re my favorite awkward homeschooled kid."

"Did  _you_  have too much to drink?” Not that Danny’s  _not_  smiling. His eyes haven’t adjusted, either. It’s  _really_  dark in here. “Maybe  _I_  had too much to drink, I feel like I’m unusually flaky tonight.”

"Maybe we both did."

"Matt." Danny reaches up and puts his hands firmly on Matt’s shoulders. "Since we’re alone like this, I think it’s only fair to tell you…"

Matt goes very still for a moment. “What?”

"I’m not Daredevil."

Matt  _stays_  still, and then he starts to shake with silent laughter again. “N-no, Danny. No, you’re not. And. Neither am I! I’m wearing a shirt that says so and everything!”

"I  _love_  that shirt. So are we going to make out? I think the others are going to be disappointed if they open the door and we’re just standing here laughing like drunk assholes.”

"I don’t see why not." Matt leans forward, pressing his forehead to Danny’s. "And anyway, you said you liked my shirt."

"I  _do_  like your shirt.” Danny kisses him—an initial, shy brush of lips. “I also like you  _out_  of your shirt.”

Another kiss. “That’s a very interesting statement. I think we should talk about that more.”

"Sounds good." A third kiss, noticeably lengthy. "Let’s ditch the rest of the party."

"As  _soon_  as Jen gets off the door.”


	26. Industrial Espionage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> decaykid asked:  
> Scott/Emma 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 15—Office romance AU

"This is  _so_  inappropriate,” Scott says, as he’s pulling up his pants. “You realize someone could have walked in on us at  _any_  time?”

Emma smirks, redoing her shirt buttons. “That’s their problem. It’s  _my_  office. So have you considered my offer?”

"I’m not quitting a job I like just to make it easier for us to have sex on your desk in the middle of your lunch break."

"That’s  _not_  why I offered you the position.” Now she’s reapplying lipstick, with a purse of her lips that makes Scott want to take his pants right back off. “I could  _use_  your skills here, Scott. We’re about to land a big contract, Hellion Dynamic needs someone with your leadership capabilities.”

"Jean needs me at X-Corp." He fixes his tie one-handed, wincing as his glasses slip briefly and the light almost blinds him.

But before he can tighten his tie all the way, Emma hooks a finger under it and pulls him close. “There’s no advancement for you there. Miss  _Grey_  just wants you working for her so she can pretend there’s a chance you’ll get back together one day. You’re barely more than her secretary. Not that you’re not  _lovely_  eye candy, Scott dear, but I have  _other_  uses for you.” Her finger trails down from his tie to his chest. “How does  _vice-president_  sound to you? We’d be working together  _very_  closely, and you’d get to flex a little bit. Do some  _real_  work.”

It’d be a lie if he said his resolve  _wasn’t_  wavering a bit. “…I’ll think about it.”

Emma’s got a predator smile, he’ll always give her that. So he kisses it, and she chuckles into his mouth. “Next time I’ll stop by  _your_  office, and we can use  _your_  desk.”

"How am I going to explain you showing up?"

"Oh, we’ll just say it’s industrial espionage."


	27. Diplomatic Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meri47 asked:  
> Dairine/Roshaun, #13!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 13: Handcuffed together

"I’m going to remind you later that this was  _your_ idea.”

Roshaun rattles the chain on their cuffs and rolls his eyes. “The Duel of Champions is an honor. That we were invited to participate  _together_  is doubly an honor.”

The static from their last spell has made Dairine’s hair crackle out into a cloud around her head, and she curses quietly at whatever evil ability it is that keeps Roshaun’s in its smooth ponytail. “And the handcuffs are necessary  _why?_ ”

"In the interests of  _fairness,_  of course. Most of the other champions are fighting individually.”

"I hate you."

Roshaun  _smirks._  She wants to punch him. “Then why are we holding hands?”

"Haaaate." She grins at him. "So who are we dueling next?"

He raises both their hands together as he confers with his manual, and nods. “Nobody I know. We should discuss strategy.”

It’s her turn to rattle the chain. “Not like we could do much else.”


	28. Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fatallywhimsical asked:  
> daken/lester #16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another Seven Minutes in Heaven. Which is a pretty popular scenario, I guess! Standard Lester-related homophobia warning does apply.

Lester tugs at the collar of his tuxedo, scowling. “Where the fuck is Normie.”

Daken doesn’t even look at him; he’s looking in the other direction, apparently entranced by a group of rich young socialites talking about politics at the far end of the room. “How should I know?”

"He’s playing this somehow. I  _know_  he is.”

"Of  _course_  he is. That’s what he  _does._ " Daken snags a drink from a passing waiter, takes a sip, and then sneers down at the wine as if it’s offended him. "What  _is_  this swill? Did our host buy all his wine from  _California?_ ”

"All right, then, princess,  _you_  get snotty about the booze,  _I’m_  gonna figure out the angle here.” Lester rolls his eyes. “I’ve  _worked_  for the creep who owns this joint.” And he stalks off, brushing off tittering rich idiots as he does.

After a moment he gets an itch between his shoulderblades, and he starts counting down from ten.

And when he gets to four he hears Daken purr, “You were really  _serious_  about that, weren’t you?”

"You think I’m fucking stupid, princess?" Lester can feel his lip twisting, and after a moment he pulls off his Hawkeye cowl, gets some fresh air. "I told you. I’ve  _killed_  for the guy throwing this party. Whatever angle Normie’s running here, I wanna know  _before_  we get the briefing.”

Daken looks him over in a way that makes his skin crawl, although he’d never admit why. “You’re actually  _not_  stupid.”

Lester snorts. “You don’t get ahead in this game by being  _stupid,_  bitch.”

"I suppose that’s true." Daken’s hand on his shoulder is a little too warm, his grip a little too familiar. "Well, then. What are we waiting for,  _partner?_ ”

He shrugs off the hand. “Don’t fucking touch me, faggot.” But he doesn’t make Daken go away.

They poke around the floor that the party’s being held on, break into a few executive offices and read all the papers, and are making their way back to the executive suite that’s the actual party  _location_  when—

Daken lifts his head and  _sniffs,_  like a  _dog._ “Someone’s coming.”

"So? Why should I— _hey,_  what the  _fuck—_ ”

He stumbles as Daken grabs his collar, hauls him through the nearest open door and shuts it behind them, and then bites off a curse when he realizes that they’re in a  _utility closet._

"The fuck is  _wrong_  with you?”

"We might hear something interesting." The hand on his collar slides down his back, pulling him even closer in the already cramped space. "Unless I’m distracting you, of course."

Lester grits his teeth and determinedly ignores the fact that he’s getting an erection. “Fuck you, princess.”

“ _Lester._ " Daken chuckles, and Lester can  _feel_  the other man’s chest quiver. “I don’t think this is the time  _or_  the place.”

"Shut up before I shut you up."

"I can think of a few  _fun_  ways you could do that.”

Lester’s hand tightens into a fist, but before he can punch the mutie freak in his smirking mouth he hears footsteps on the carpet, and he goes very still. Daken just presses in closer, but Lester ignores him.

"…agreed, then. The Avengers will appreciate your financial support."

"They’d  _better._ ”

Lester hisses, trying to hear more, but Osborn and the corporate creep are moving too quickly, and anyway, from the little more he can catch, they’re not talking about anything worthwhile. Just money shit. “Fuck. I missed anything good.”

“ _I’m_  enjoying myself.”

"You would." Lester fixes his cowl, reaches over to open the door and—"Where’s the fucking handle?"

"How should I know?"

“ _You’re_  the one who shut us in the fucking  _closet!_ ”

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

Daken’s practically cuddled up to him now, and it’s getting…distracting. He doesn’t want to think about it. Especially because the fucker’s  _purring._ Like a fucking  _cat._  And it makes everything  _vibrate._  He shoves, using the advantage of height and weight to knock Daken backwards into the opposite wall of the closet. “Back the fuck off, freak, or get your fucking claws out and open the damn door.”

"You’re so charming."

"I’m gonna kill you some day, I swear."

"Someone else is coming." Daken sniffs, then reaches over and knocks loudly on the inside of the door. "Excuse me, would you open the door."

In the hall they hear a startled, high-pitched giggling, and then just before the door opens Daken reaches over and pulls Lester close to him again. “Thank you,” he purrs at their savior. “We didn’t mean to get stuck, but we got a little…overexcited.”

A flashbulb goes off.

Lester swears under his breath, and as they stumble back out to the party in the company of the gossip columnist who saved them, he mutters to Daken, “I’m going to kill this bitch before she can publish those fucking photos. And then, after that, you and I are gonna have a  _talk._ ”

Daken smirks. “I’m looking forward to it.”


	29. Undemonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fatallywhimsical asked:  
> quentin/evan #4 (quentin would be a big ol' slut if he wasn't such a sweaty awkward virgin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 4: Angels and demons AU

Evan’s feet drum against the stones of the wall, and rain drips off his horns onto his face. It’s not a bad feeling, it’s really very nice, but it is  _very_  wet. Not that the ducks care. They paddle in circles, oblivious to the weather. He throws one a cracker.

Then there’s a little thump next to his elbow, and a familiar voice says, “You are, without a doubt, the  _least_  evil demon I’ve ever met. You’re practically not a demon. You’re just a sad teenager with bat wings.”

Evan looks up and beams. “Quentin! When did you get here?”

"Just now." Quentin sits down on the wall next to him, rolling his eyes. "You’re feeding the ducks.  _Seriously._  You’re a  _demon,_  shouldn’t you be, I don’t know,  _tempting someone?_  Or at least feeding the ducks candy. Something evil.”

"Your hair is in your face." Evan reaches up and pushes a lock of pink hair off of Quentin’s nose.

"See? This is  _exactly_  what I’m talking about. Be  _evil!_ ”

"Like you’re such a good  _angel._ " Evan pokes gently at one of Quentin’s wings. "You’re supposed to help people, right? When’s the last time you did a good deed?"

Quentin sniffs haughtily and puts his nose in the air. “Faith untested isn’t  _anything._  I’m  _helping_ people.” _  
_

"By staging loud protests, playing loud music outside the houses of politicians, and encouraging political unrest?"

 _"Exactly._  That’s  _helpful._ I’m making the world  _better._ ”

"You’re making the world noisy."

"Noise is good. The Ones Above  _like_  noise.”

"The Ones Above think you’re on shaky ground, I saw your last review."

"Well,  _I_  saw  _yours,_  and as I  _recall_  you got a scolding because you haven’t even said anything  _mean_  in ten years.”

"You’re annoying. There we go, that’s mean."

Quentin sighs. “And you’re soaking.” There’s a wet rustling sound as his wings spread out and up to cover them both. “There, that’s my good deed for the day.”

"You’re helping out the other side, I don’t think it counts." Evan grins at him. "I could report you."

"Oh,  _shut_  up.” Quentin leans on Evan’s shoulder. “I don’t take shit from demons.”

"And I don’t take career advice from angels." Evan lets his cheek rest on Quentin’s hair.

"I  _could_  give you advice. I’m  _good_  at temptations.”

"And I’m better at doing good deeds than at tempting people. Maybe we should switch sides."

Quentin pauses, considering it for a moment, and then tilts his head up quickly and kisses Evan on the chin. “Nah. That’d be  _boring._ ”

\--

Further down the park, Crowley looks up suddenly and says, “Isn’t that pink-haired kid over there one of yours?”

Aziraphale peers in the direction he’s gesturing. “So he  _is._  I’m fairly sure the funny-looking grey one belongs to your side, though.”

"Not very subtle. Wings out like that."

"Young people, you know."

Crowley glances at his companion. “I’m never going to figure out how you define ‘young.’ They’re probably the same age as us.”

"But they  _look_  so young.”

"And you look like someone who writes to the Daily Mail, appearances don’t mean anything."

Aziraphale looks offended. “I do  _not._ ”

"No. No, I suppose you don’t." And Crowley smirks suddenly. "I’ve always been pleased with the Daily Mail. That was a good day’s work."

Aziraphale looks at the kissing boys next to the duck pond for another moment and then mutters something, and the rain slowly clears up. The clouds part, just enough to let down a shaft of warm sunlight that makes two heads of hair, one pink and one black, glow warmly.

Crowley rolls his eyes. “You’re so soft it’s disgusting.”

"I think they’re sweet." Aziraphale crosses his arms across his chest. "Anyway, I believe  _you_ promised me sushi.”

"Right, I suppose I did. Come on, angel." He turns to go, and then pauses, turns back, and shouts, "You two! Get a room! And keep your wings in, this isn’t the bloody Day of Judgment!"


	30. Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meri47 asked:  
> SUSAN PEVENSIE/JACK HARKNESS, I DON'T CARE HOW JUST MAKE IT HAPPEN. *bows frantically to Cthulu-chan*

She doesn’t wear lipstick to the funeral.

It’s not that she’s given it up, but it doesn’t seem fitting. She’s here to mourn, not to look pretty. So she puts on a veil to hide her face, and she keeps her back very straight, and she hopes that Aslan found her siblings well. Because games are games, but that doesn’t mean they’re not true things as well.

There are other funerals going on at the same cemetery. It was a big train. One of them is a military funeral, even, and as she’s leaving with her parents she can’t help but watch them sidelong, all these brave men and women in their sharply pressed uniforms, standing with their backs straight and trying not to cry.

She doesn’t cry either. She’s seventeen now, and she’s going to go to university if it means she has to scratch and claw and fight all the way there. That means no crying. No time for it.

Her father’s hand is heavy on her shoulder, but it doesn’t really stop her from meeting the eyes of the man standing at the back of the army funeral crowd. He doesn’t look  _very_  much older than her, and he’s very beautiful, and his eyes seem sad beyond belief.

She sees him again that evening, in the restaurant her parents take her to. They’re making strained conversation, trying not to think about what they’ve lost, and the man from the funeral is up at the bar, talking quietly and seriously with friends in military uniforms.

Their eyes meet again.

He winks at her.

Despite herself, she smiles.

—

Susan sees him again three years later. She’s at university now, at Cambridge on a scholarship, and he’s there with a group of very serious men in suits who are attending some sort of meeting with a number of biologists. He smiles at her. She smiles back, although she  _is_  in a hurry, because if she doesn’t run then she’ll miss her physics lecture.

When she gets out of the lecture she goes to get lunch, and there he is at her favorite cafe, sitting at a table by himself. It’s crowded anyway, so she stops by his table despite herself. “May I sit here?”

He looks surprised and says, in an American accent, “Sure, if you like.”

She sits down, tucks her bag under her chair, crosses her ankles demurely. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, sir. I’m Susan Pevensie.”

"Jack Harkness." His hand is warm through the thin fabric of her glove. "I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?"

"Yes. At a funeral, three years ago. And I passed you on my way to class this morning."

"Right, yes." He smiles. "Now I remember."

He’s a captain. He’s done a great deal of traveling.

They spend their lunchtime talking about science.

—

It’s not the first time  _ever_  that she’s had sex, but it  _is_  the first time she’s really liked it. _  
_

Afterward, they’re lying in her really very narrow bed together, and she’s feeling rather surprised and pleased with herself. And, since she’s already been _very_  bold today, she says, “You’ve done  _quite_ a lot of traveling, haven’t you, Jack?”

He grins down at her. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

"Oh, I don’t know about that." She takes a moment to think about how to phrase it. "Have…have you ever been anywhere that seems like it ought not to exist?"

"How do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath and tells him about Narnia.

And he…he tells her about  _space._

—

She’s not going to give up university for  _anyone,_ of course, so he leaves a few days later, and she goes on with her life.

She sees him again eight years after that, the day after her successful defense of her dissertation. She’s in a bar, having a drink by herself, because she’s a grown woman now and nobody can tell her not to, and he sits down next to her.

She looks at him and the first thing she says is, “You don’t look a  _day_  older.”

He grins. “Neither do you.”

She smiles. “Liar.”

They spend the evening talking about science again, and about her theories, and then he says, “I met with one of your professors the other day.”

Susan raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”

"Yes." He digs in the pocket of his coat, pulls out a business card, and hands it to her. "If you’re interested…I think I’d like to offer you a job."


	31. Do What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> decaykid asked:  
> Daken/Catman 27 :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 27—bodyswap

Thomas scowls. “I feel  _tiny._ ”

"Excuse  _me._ " Daken looks offended. "I’m sincerely sorry that I’m not some variety of giant."

"I’m not  _giant,_  I am a  _normal-sized human._ You’re  _miniature._ ”

Daken turns to leave, walks into the doorframe, and stumbles back, cursing. “This is ridiculous. How long until this is fixed?”

Jeannette just rolls her eyes at him. Karla says, “We’re working on it. Be patient.”

He walks away, in Thomas’ body.  _This_  time he doesn’t run into anything.

—

They avoid each other, and at first this works out well—at least for Daken, who simply keeps to the training area outside the house, where he calmly demolishes training dummies one by one.

Thomas, however, is an issue.

He stalks around the house, muttering irritably to himself, and where he goes, conflict follows. People argue. Harsh words are exchanged. Fights break out.

Finally, when Mac and Peter go rolling out the door in a flailing, furious ball of limbs and teeth, Scandal grabs Thomas, slams him into the wall, and says, “What the  _hell_  are you doing?”

He snarls, “I don’t  _know!_ ”

Her eyes go dark, and she pulls back to punch him—

"It’s the pheromones." Daken’s leaning against the far wall, somehow managing his usual insolent slouch despite being in a body almost a foot taller than his own and  _certainly_  twice as wide. He takes a bite of his apple and smirks. “He doesn’t know how to control them. So he’s just broadcasting his moods.”

"Can you teach him how to  _control_  it?”

"Hardly. It took me twenty years to fine-tune my pheromone usage."

"Well, then." Scandal cracks her neck and scowls down at Thomas. "Cheer the  _fuck_  up. This feels like PMS on steroids.”

He ducks out from her grip and says, irritably, “Yes, ma’am.”

—

So he cheers up, and then for a while both teams are entertained by watching Daken walk into things, hit his head, and trip as he tries to adjust himself to the larger body he’s in. Then  _that_  has to stop, because he finally gets the hang of it and celebrates by picking up the snickering Lester by the scruff of the neck and hurling him out a window.

But then…then there’s another problem.

They eat lunch, and then after that they scatter for an afternoon’s relaxation. Several members of the two teams go to the library to solve the body-switching problem, and several more head out behind the House of Secrets to train.

Knockout and Bob wrestle. Scandal throws knives at Mac, who entertains himself snatching them out of the air. And Thomas slouches on the back steps, watching Floyd and a heavily-bandaged Lester have a semi-friendly target-shooting competition, and the day starts to get…warm.

First Liana, who’s been making endless trays of brownies in between working on the Six’s accounts, wanders quietly out onto the training field and grabs Scandal and Knockout by the hand. They both try to protest, but she just tows them determinedly back into the house.

A few minutes later a colossal racket wafts down from their bedroom, and Mac’s eyes go wide. “Wait, are they…”

"Think fast, Mac."

Mac dodges the bullet, roaring. “ _Fuck_  you, Lester.”

But the others keep going, and Thomas sits forward on the steps, watching Floyd intently, and next it’s Lester who just…walks away, back into the house and straight into the library, where he taps Jeannette on the shoulder and says, “Look, you’re some kinda sex demon, right?”

She blinks. “What a charming way to start a conversation.”

"Look, whaddo I do if I think I’m a fag?"

"I don’t  _know,_  dear, perhaps you should go sleep with a man.”

And bereft of his competitor, Floyd shifts awkwardly and says, “Uh. I dunno about you, tentacle guy, but I’m gonna…go have a lie down.”

Mac stares after him, irritated. “Man,  _nobody_  else wants a fight? Hey, not-Daken,  _you_  wanna fight?”

"Not particularly." Thomas stretches luxuriously, gets up, and wanders back into the house.

—

He walks past Daken, who’s in the kitchen again, making himself a sandwich. Daken turns, first saying, “Are you  _constantly_  hungry, this is maddening,” and then…freezing.

Freezing and staring at Thomas.

Thomas says, irritably, “Yes?”

And then, “Whoa, whoa,” as Daken puts the sandwich down on the counter and  _charges_  him, penning him in against the wall—except that Thomas is  _fast,_  this body is faster than his normal one, he sweeps  _his own feet_  out from under him, it’s existentially disorienting. He sends his own body sprawling and pounces, and they roll, and as they roll, Daken snarls, “Is this what it’s like being around  _me?_ ”

"Yeah," Thomas pants, punching him in the mouth, "yeah, pretty much, I think I know what you’re talking about here and yeah. It’s  _just_  like that.”

"Imagine how  _agonizing_  Lester must find it.” It’s weird, seeing that kind of pleased smirk on his own face even as he’s dodging a kick to the knee. “Imagine how it must keep him up at night.”

"I’ll keep  _you_  up at night.”

“ _Gladly._  You. Smell.  _Delicious._ ”

"I  _loathe_  you.”

"The feeling is mutual. Which bedroom is yours?"

"Second floor, last on the left."

Daken rolls to his feet, picks Thomas up, and throws him over one shoulder like a sack of flour. “I could get used to being this strong.”

"You better not. Hurry the fuck up before I pass out."

They pass Floyd on their way up to the second floor, and he stares at them for a moment and then hurries to the kitchen.

Jeannette finds him there fifteen minutes later, with a bottle of whiskey that had been new the day before. He looks up at her, bleary-eyed, and says, “Jeannie, ‘m straight, right?”

She pats his shoulder comfortingly. “Mostly, my dear shootist. Mostly.”

He nods, and then says, “Wait, whaddaya mean,  _mostly?_ ”

—

Eventually there’s dinner. Nobody wants to go up to Thomas’ room to knock.

—

By the time everyone’s awake the next morning, some magical solutions have been found, and finally,  _finally,_  Scandal is deputized to go wake up Thomas and Daken, as she’s voted the one least likely to get involved in anything. She doesn’t even knock, she just pushes the door open and rolls her eyes at the wreckage of bedclothes on the floor. Daken is sprawled on the bed, still asleep, with Thomas curled around him like a cat. Given the size disparity, it’s almost cute.

At the creaking of the door, Thomas opens one eye and says, “What.”

"Jeannette and Karla figured out how to switch you back. Crawl out of each others’ asses and get downstairs so we can take care of this, I don’t think we can take the racket anymore."

Daken  _doesn’t_  open his eyes. “What makes you think we’ll stop?”

"Look, just…get downstairs and let’s get this over with."


	32. Big Cat Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spegelherren asked:  
> ,,,, This was hard, I didn't know what to send you since they're all so great,,,, but can I just- Deadshot/Catman ..14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 14—Stripper AU. (And omg, hon, I bugged you to prompt me and this took ages, so sorry! -_-)

The club is called Superiors, and Floyd isn’t one hundred percent sure why he’s there. As far as he can recall, the sequence events is something like:

  1. Jeannie gets visit from butch ex-girlfriend
  2. Butch ex-girlfriend gets drunk in their kitchen talking about how her most recent fling just moved back to Russia
  3. Jeannie provides comfort, kicks Floyd when he starts to suggest a threesome
  4. Butch ex-girlfriend is staying on their couch for a week?
  5. Strip club?



Not that Floyd ever  _objects_  to a strip club, but this one’s a little more…cosmopolitan than he normally goes for. Which means in part that there are costumes, but mostly that half the dancers are men.

Jeannie’s butch ex-girlfriend, who is improbably named Scandal, is three Scotchs down and goggling at a redhead in a green leotard who apparently looks  _just_  like the recent ex. Jeannie herself is flashing a twenty at a young guy with a navel piercing and purple hair.

Floyd’s just feeling a little perplexed by all of this. And maybe he’s a little drunk.

The DJ, who has some  _serious_  facial scarring and a voice that makes everything sound filthy, is talking up a storm. This girl on that stage, that guy on that table, chicken wings half-price and drinks at the bar.

And then the lights dim for a moment and the DJ cries,  _"Now, ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, everyone’s_ favorite _big cat show, our headliner tonight, the astounding Catman.”_

A stage that’s previously been curtained and dark lights up, and many of the clubgoers start to applaud. Floyd looks over, out of vague curiosity if nothing else, A few of the dancers wolf-whistle, grinning, and the curtains part, and—

Holy shit. The guy’s made of fucking  _molten gold._ Even his  _hair_  is this sort of golden red color, and he’s fucking  _ripped._  There’s a triple scar on his chest that makes Floyd this,  _that must be why he’s_ Cat _man,_  and he’s not wearing a whole ton, and he starts to dance and looks like someone who could fucking tear Floyd  _apart._

And for a moment their eyes meet, and the corner of the dancer’s mouth twitches upward, and he looks at Floyd like Floyd’s the next course in a  _very_  delicious dinner.

All of a sudden Floyd’s so turned on that he feels like he’s been hit in the gut. With a  _Mack truck._

Jeannie reaches over and pushes Floyd’s chin up with a gentle finger. “You’re catching flies, my dear.”

"I. Uh. Jeannie, I. He."

"You’re not as straight as you thought you were. It’s all right, dear. I already knew."

Floyd just stares poleaxed at the dancer, who’s still moving on the stage in a way that makes it very difficult to think straight. In  _either_  sense of the term “straight.”

"If you’d like to attract his attention, I wouldn’t mind." She smiles quietly. "I think you’ve earned the right to…explore a little, and I think I’d like to take Scandal out somewhere tomorrow. We can catch up a bit more."

"Wait, you’re saying you think I should…"

His eyes meet the dancer’s again.

The fucker  _winks_  at him.

He’s going to die. Can you die of having a hard-on? Because he’s doing his damndest.

—

Thomas gets backstage, starts to towel the sweat out of his hair, and says to Liana, “Seems like you have a fan.”

Liana grins. “If I wasn’t on shift I’d ask her out. What about you? You looked like you wanted to  _eat_  that guy with the mustache.”

"I could. I could do that." He starts to count out his tips and stops when he finds a slip of paper tucked between two of the bills. "In fact, I  _think_ I’m  _going_  to.”

"I…oh my  _god,_  did he give you his  _number?_ " She stares at it, trying not to laugh. "Are you actually going to  _call_  him?”

He shrugs. “Hell, I’m not doing anything tomorrow.”


	33. The Renfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the vampire!Loki Multiverse thing you’ve all been waiting for, requested by zethsaire. It’s a little bit NSFW.

An isolated report could be a solitary ravener, a flare-up in someone’s porphyria, or simply malnutrition. Two or three might mean imps or cultists or a rash of bad luck. But so many calls, with such similar symptoms—victims hollow-eyed and anemic and speaking only of  _him,_  of the one who  _came_  to them—that can only be one thing.

It can only be a vampire.

The city is well-prepared, though, for in a demon-haunted world, heroes will always rise, and not just heroes, but avengers. Champions of the sacred, guardians of the innocent, and hunters of the dark.

—

The blond hunter arrives two months after the incidents begin. He is tall and broad, with a sunny smile, and he carries no pistol or crossbow, only a vast hammer which he hefts like a toy and a bandoleer of stakes across his chest. He presents himself at Avengers Tower with some alacrity, and is greeted with…suspicion.

That is, until he introduces himself.

"Tell the Avengers," he says to the secretary, "that Thor Odinson has come to call."

On the phone Tony says,  _"No shit? Thor Odinson? The Icelandic vamp specialist? Yeah, sure, send him up."_

—

"I am looking for a vampire," he said, and Tony said, "Yeah, I figured."

Steve elbowed him. “What brings you here? We’ve got a bloodsucker problem of some kind, but I didn’t think the news had traveled too far.”

"Not too far, but it found me nonetheless. I know the vampire that haunts this city."

 _That_  got their attention, and they all sat forward, Natasha saying mildly, “Do tell.”

Thor shifted unhappily. “Do you here know the name of Loki?”

And now they were just as unhappy, and Steve says, “We do.”

“ _He_  is your vampire, and my oldest quarry. I have hunted him for many years.”

"He’s powerful. Did he do something to you?"

"He is my brother."

—

"My brother is expert at moving silently and unseen, but in recent years there has arisen a way to track him."

Tony looked fascinated. “How? Paper trail? Electromagnetic signature? Bugs? Shit, I bet you tagged him like they do with pigeons. Ow, don’t punch me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Ignore Tony, please go on.”

Thor glanced uncertainly at Tony. “He has taken a lover.”

Clint groaned. “Lemme guess. Willowy, long hair, underwired nightgown, leaves her window open at night?”

"…no? His name is—"

“ _His?_  Wait, your brother is  _gay?_ ”

Thor looked puzzled. “He is Loki. Nothing else. He does what pleases him. But no. My brother’s loved is named Simon. Simon Clark.”

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." Bruce hadn’t spoken once since Thor’s arrival. "The college professor? The theologian?  _He’s_  a  _Renfield?_  I ate  _lunch_  with him the other day.”

"Not a Renfield, no. Or not precisely. I have spoken to him. What he is, he has chosen to be. He entered into his relationship with Loki freely and of his own volition, and where my brother goes, so does he. It is my hope to trap my brother using his lover, and thus end his reign of terror for good."

Steve was uneasy as he said, slowly, “We’ll need to talk to Otto.”

—

Peter grimaced and nodded. “Fine.”

Then his head tilted to the side, and in the soft voice of Otto Octavius he said, “A theologian, Banner? I hope you’re not defecting to the  _humanities._ " There was a sneer in his voice.

Bruce sighed. “No, Otto. We need you to bug his house.”

"Ah. Well, that’s more like it.

—

Professor Clark opened the door of his brownstone and blinked cheerfully. “Dr. Banner, what a pleasure to see you! What brings you here? Is this one of your students?”

—

Otto’s surveillance bots had filled the brownstone by the time night fell, turning on their uplinks one by one and broadcasting their feeds directly to Avengers Tower.

At first they displayed nothing special. The professor puttered around his home, ate a solitary dinner, worked on a painting. He made himself a drink and retired to bed with a book, alone.

In the observation lab, Peter typed rapidly at a console, his eyes burning a ghostly blue. “Since my death,” he said in Otto’s voice, “I’ve found that there’s much interest to be found in observing the spectral realm. I made this latest wave of Octobots two days ago. They won’t be able to display an  _image_ of the creature, but they will be able to  _detect_  it. Vampires, I have found, have a unique etheric signature.”

"Wait." Tony scowled. "So you’re saying if we’d asked you  _three_ days ago, we’d be S.O.L.?”

"You didn’t ask me at  _all,_  Mr. Stark. You  _told_  me. If you had  _asked,_  then I would gladly have put it in, hm, layman’s terms for you.”

Natasha kicked Tony in the ankle before he could respond to that, and in any case just then Steve sat up very straight. “Something’s happening.”

On the screen, the arrangement of roses in Professor Clark’s bedroom suddenly withered.

Thor looked grim. “My brother comes to him.

Professor Clark set aside his book and looked up expectantly, and then—an apparition.

"The creature," Peter/Otto said with some satisfaction. "Not the image, of course, but the etheric impression."

The man-shaped distortion emerged from the shadows in one corner of the room and approached the bed. Professor Clark’s eyes were shining in the low light; the observers could hear his breathing quickening. He was lifted from the bed, the apparition leaning down towards his throat and—

Steve started to his feet. “We have to go  _help_  him, he’s going to be—”

Thor had turned his head away from the screen. “It is not necessary.”

"Of  _course_  it is, he’ll be—wait.” Steve began to blush. “Wait, is he…” because the gasp that the professor had let out was anything  _but_  pained.

 _"Oh…"_  Professor Clark had gone to bed partly dressed, but now his sleep pants were stripped from him by unseen hands.  _"Oh, good…good evening, Master."_

And another voice, dark and musical.  _"Beloved, you know you don’t have to call me that when we’re alone. I am not the terrible Master here."_

 _"Not_ the _Master, maybe, but you’re_ my _master.”_  The professor was smiling.  _"I like calling you that."_

_"And who would I be if I denied you a thing you desired?"_

_"You’d still be my master."_

_"I am spoiled in you."_

Clint had started to fidget. “Do we  _really_  need to be watching this?” Conveniently, his question was punctuated by a particularly debauched moan from the monitor, Professor Clark arching back against the cushions as his invisible-to-them companion pushed his legs up and spread them wide.

Thor was awkward and miserable. “Perhaps tonight my brother does not intend to—”

_"I had visitors today."_

_"I felt them, beloved. What did they want?"_

_"Oh, you know. To chat about work. And they bugged the house."_

Peter/Otto’s head flew up. He looked vastly offended. “How does he  _know?_ My stealth routines are perfection  _itself!_ ”

 _"Then my brother has found us again. Are you watching me, Thor?"_  Loki’s voice rose.  _"Do you_ really _think it proper to observe me abed?”_

Thor turned bright red.

 _"Have you called upon this city’s petty guardians? I hope, Avengers, you are enjoying the show."_  He accompanied this with some half-perceptible movement that made Professor Clark cry out delightedly.

Steve coughed. Tony choked on his coffee. Bruce and Peter covered their eyes, Clint his mouth.

Natasha said, calmly, “Your brother’s kind of a porn star. Shame we can’t see him.”

"He, ah, revels in the discomfort of others."

 _"What do you want to do, Master?"_  Professor Clark was breathless with pleasure.

 _"Hm. I think, first, we shall give them a show."_  More flickers of movement, the bed creaking underneath them.  _"And then we will bathe this sorry town in blood. Would you like that, o my best beloved?"_

 _"Oh,_ yes, _Master.”_


	34. On The Plains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shaded-mazoku asked:  
> Savant/Creote and either 12 or 23, whichever works better for you? :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 23—mythical creature/human

There is wind in his hair, and plains under his hooves, and a man on his back who is waking up and groaning,  _"Oooohhhh…"_

It takes some work for Sasha to stop carefully; if he simply stops  _moving,_  it would jolt Brian off of him, and so he must drop to a canter, and then a trot, slowing to a walk before he stops under a tree. He twists a bit to look down at the other man. “Sir, are you awake?”

Brian blinks, smiles amiably at him, and then frowns as he tries to sit up. “There’s an  _arrow_  in my leg!”

 

"Yes, sir. We had an encounter with the Birds of Prey outside the walls of Gotham. I thought it was better not to remove the arrow until we were somewhere secure and stable."

"I thought that was last month."

"No, sir. It was an hour ago."

Brian struggles into a seated position on Sasha’s broad back and slumps back against his shoulders, resting his head on Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha tells himself that it’s distracting because Brian’s hair is in his eyes, and not for any other reasons. “Well, thank you for saving me. Again.”

"It’s only my duty, sir."

"I still appreciate it. Help me get down? I ought to remove this and bandage it up."

The centaur offers an arm, but even with an injury it takes Brian very little effort to get to the ground—he’s not  _quite_  as tall as Sasha, but it’s honestly a close match. As the blond man cuts off the shaft of the arrow with a wince and strips down to his underthings to take care of the arrow wound and the other, smaller cuts on arms and torso, Sasha tightens his mouth and tries not to stare.

It would be inappropriate, in many more ways than one. There is the fact that they are both  _men,_ and that Sasha is not  _human,_  and then they are also criminals, and there are Brian’s medical issues to consider, and Brian is his  _employer,_ and…

But they have both been cast out of their tribes already, and every time he thinks of it, it’s harder for Sasha to come up with reasons why he  _shouldn’t_  bend down and kiss his companion right now.

"Sasha? Is something wrong?"

Sasha blinks. He  _has_  been staring. “No, not at all. My apologies, sir.”

"Nothing to apologize for." And a smile like sunlight, before Brian swings back up and leans against his shoulders once again. "I should probably sleep these wounds off. I leave everything in your hands."

 _You could have anything of me that you desired,_ Sasha doesn’t say, and he resumes his gallop across the fields while Brian falls asleep on his back.


	35. So Sometimes I Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And also for geoboy-world—a Multiverse tale of TimKon and seven minutes in heaven.

"I  _could_  just break down the door.”

"You could, but then Mrs. Baker would be angry at us. And Dr. Baker probably wouldn’t bring us any more cookies."

Kon sighs. “All right, then. So  _why_  did the others lock us in here? First they set us up to go out for dinner, and then Cassie and Cass keep  _giggling_  at us and—look, do you  _like_  me or  _what?_ ”

Tim folds his arms over his chest and doesn’t look up at Kon, electing to just lean back against the closet wall instead. “I. What do you mean?”

There’s this agonizing pause before Kon blushes, and the temperature actually starts to rise in the closet they’re stuck in. “Thought  _you_  were supposed to be the smart one here.” _  
_

Tim shuffles his feet. “Don’t know _what_  you’re talking about.”

"Yesterday Kate said you were checking out my ass."

"So sometimes I look." Now Tim’s doing that stoneface thing that Batman apparently teaches to everyone he trains. "Tommy says you watch me when I’m changing."

Kon glances to the side. “Tommy says a lot of things.”

“ _Merlin_  says you were staring more than  _he_  does.”

"Yeah ok." He tries the door again. It’s still locked. "So do I get to kiss you now?"

Five minutes later Steph opens the closet door, and the entire room starts applauding.


	36. What Your Life Is Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geoboy-world asked:  
> I have two for you (^_^) Bart/Merlin 27, and Multiverse Tim/Kon 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bodyswapping, this time in the Multiverse ^_^

The first thing they both say is, “How do you  _live_ like this?”

Bart is shaking, just a little bit, his eyes wide. “I feel so  _slow._  Like, I feel slow, I feel  _slooooow,_  but I can see  _everything._  Like everything’s gonna jump  _out_  at me.”

"Iknowright? That’showeverythingisforme. ShithowdoIslowdown?" Merlin’s barely visible. Every move he makes blurs in the air, and he’s only barely comprehensible.

"Deep breathing. You need to take deep breaths and focus." Bart puts a hand on his arm, flinching as a mosquito flies past his face. "I’m gonna go  _nuts…_ ”

"Lookcansomebodyfixthis? BillyRavenheyTimdoyouknowasciencetricksomebodygetmemybodyback." Merlin’s getting blurrier and blurrier.

"Hey hey hey hey hey." Bart grabs him, pulls him over, pulls his head down. "It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s oh shit what was that?"

"Probablyadustspeckthosemesswithmeallthetime."

“ _Dust_  is that clear to you?”

"WellyeahbutI’m _used_ toit.”

Noh-Varr and Vic glare down at the malfunctioning machine that put them in this situation, and Noh-Varr says, after a moment, “We should have it fixed in…two hours. Can you two last two hours?”

"I don’t like this."

"I’ll take that as a yes."

"Nohgoddammitthatwasn’tayesthatwasa _hurryup._ ”

Raven sighs. “I will watch them. Two hours, yes?”

Vic nods. “Yeah. Two hours. …maybe three.”

"Whatno _three_ no _hurryupplease._ ”


	37. Live A Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> decaykid asked:  
> Daken/Bullseye 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 10: Deserted island. Warning for cannibalism reference, homphobic language

"No, Lester. You don’t get to eat me."

"But you’ll grow back!"

Lester’s lying on the branch of a tree, scowling down at the water. Daken’s on the beach, on his stomach in the shallows, spearing slow fish on his claws with a kind of lazy, catlike pleasure. He shrugs, and his tattoo ripples. “Yes, but it takes a bit. And it would be unpleasant.”

"Bet I could make a decent roast outta you."

"A  _roast?_ " Daken twists around to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Lester, do you even know how to cook? For that matter, have you _ever_  eaten human flesh?”

 

"I like to live, what can I say. And I’m sick of fish." Lester grins nastily. "Could carve a few slices off one’a your legs, grill ‘em up on the firepit, little coconut milk…it’d be a decent dinner."

"You’re really the dregs of humanity aren’t you."

“ _Or_  the top’a the food chain. All in how you look at things.”

Daken rolls over onto his back, carefully avoiding the pile of fish for dinner, and spreads his arms welcomingly. “Well, I won’t let you  _eat_  me, but if it would help I  _do_  have something you can suck on. But only if you promise to swallow.”

Lester sputters, turns red, and falls off his tree branch into the bushes.

"Be careful," Daken calls, sing-song. "I think some of those plants are poisonous."

"Sh-shut the fuck up, faggot!"

"I know you dream about me. I can hear you talking in your sleep." The water’s washing over his feet. It’s really quite pleasant. "When you’re not dreaming about fucking Daredevil, that is."

"You keep your fag mouth shut!" The bushes rustle as Lester struggles upright, cursing as he gets the kinks out of his back. "Gonna go fuckin’…build another signal fire. Gotta get  _off_  this fucking island before you drive me fucking  _nuts._ ”

But there’s a tent in his tattered pants, and his eyes travel over Daken’s bare chest as he walks past, muttering to himself.

Daken blows him a kiss.

Lester spits on him.

Daken flutters his eyelashes. “This deserted island wouldn’t be the same without you, Lester.”

Lester flips him off.

As soon as the other man’s out of sight, Daken gets up and heads over to the rock he’s staked out to sun himself on, and carves another mark into the tally along the base. “Making progress,” he murmurs with some satisfaction. “I’m going to get  _something_  out of this fiasco, at least.”


	38. Think Of The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally posting another meme prompt fill! I unfortunately don’t know enough about Apollo and Midnighter to do them justice, but luckily Ducttapefae sent me a backup prompt—BillyTeddy in an arranged marriage.

"My life is over."

Thomas frowned. “It’s not  _over,_  brother. It’s just…changing.”

"Right,  _you_  say that.” William scowled darkly. “ _You’re_  not being used as a peace offering to a horde of murderous aliens.”

"True. But bright side, you  _are_  saving the Earth from conquest. And hey, green is sexy.”

"They’re going to parade me around like a trophy and then marry me off to some hulking monstrosity who’s going to want to…" the younger prince shuddered. "I don’t want to think about it."

The older prince’s brow wrinkled, and he reached out to grip his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. Make them think you’re…sexually unsuitable. Or something.”

“ _How?_  If we tell them I have  _syphilis_  or something like that they’ll just decide I’m damaged goods and get offended and good-bye, peace treaty, hello, world conquest.”

"…I could make out with you."

_"What?"_

"Oh, no, the Maximoff prince is some sort of incestuous madperson, the whole planet’s a backwater, get away before they try to share their homebrewed liquor?"

"They only wanted the planet so they could strip-mine it for minerals. They already think we’re savages, they’ll just think you were sent to sweeten the deal. They’d probably put us in a  _harem._  Make us…ugh… _perform_  or something.”

"That’s disgusting and you have a twisted mind."

“ _You’re_  the one who wanted to  _make out_  with me.”

"I didn’t  _want_  to, I just thought it might  _help._ ”

"Shut up." William slumped over on his bunk and rolled over to face the wall. "It’s…it’s really not helping."

The bunk creaked as Thomas crawled onto it behind him, wrapping his arms around his brother. “I’m sorry,  _zauberer._  I’m an idiot. I just…” his grip tightened. “I’m losing you. And I don’t want to.”

They fell asleep like that.

—

"You look. You look good. You look regal."

"I don’t think I can walk straight."

"Actually you look a bit like Mother."

"I’m going to throw up."

Thomas swallowed hard, straightened his own collar, and brushed back his brother’s hair. “Me too.”

"What if I faint."

"You won’t. Just…stand straight, look up, and think of the Earth."

William gulped, took his brother’s proffered arm, and waited for the herald to announce them.

And…

"Oh god Thomas I’m going to faint."

The hall was  _vast._  It was vast, and it was full, a multitude of muttering Kree and Skrulls all in court finery, and all  _looking at them._  Not that William hadn’t faced crowds before, but this one had an undercurrent of hostile condescension that turned his stomach.

Up the aisle they walked, green carpet under their feet, toward the imperial family waiting on the dais. Dorrek VII, huge and stone-face, with his daughter and her consort at his side. Attendants, guards, a pink Kree manservant pouring wine for the princess, and—

"Oh. Oh, god, is that him?"

"I think it must be."

"He’ll  _break_  me.”

They reached the edge of the dais—if the crowd was this big, then how was he to survive the trip to Hala, which he had heard was even  _more_  populous than Skrullos?—stopped, and bowed. The prince—the enormous, cruel-eyed prince—watched them with an impassive gaze.

Dorrek VII boomed, “Welcome, princes of the House of Magnus, to my court.”

Thomas straightened, took a deep breath, and said, “Your welcome honors us, august emperor.” A hand over his heart. “We are awed by the majesty of your court.”

Dorrek VII nodded, seeming pleased. “As we are honored by your arrival.” And a pause. “Now. Which one are you?”

Thomas bowed again, shortly this time. “I am Thomas Erik, heir to the House of Magnus.” He pushed his brother gently forward. “And by the terms of our treaty, I present to you my twin brother, William Simon, beloved of the Princess Wanda and star of the House of Magnus.”

William gave a short bow as well. He was shaking. “I am. I am honored to. To be here. Your imperial majesty.”

The emperor leaned forward on his throne, and William shivered. Everyone on the dais was  _looking_  at him.

"So you are the one promised to us."

"With. With pride, your imperial majesty."

"Excellent." The emperor grinned. His teeth were quite sharp. "Then there is peace between our worlds. And in accordance with our treaty, I present to you my grandson—"

William looked up at the vast, motionless Skrull who stood on the dais, trying not to scream or faint or otherwise dishonor himself.

"—Dorrek-Vell."

And—the princess’  _manservant,_  the one who had served her wine, stepped forward and bowed courteously. And William saw that he was dressed more finely than any servant would be, that he was decked in gems and gold, that his face was much like that of the princess’ consort.

He looked  _terribly_  nervous. He smiled weakly and said, to the huge Skrull William had  _thought_  was the prince, “Move over, Kl’rt, the way you’re glaring makes this look like an execution.

The crowd of onlookers laughed.

The prince laughed too. He had pointy ears. They twitched.

Like a  _puppy._

William nearly collapsed. This,  _this_  was his intended?

Dorrek-Vell stepped down from the dais and took his hand, bowed over it, kissed the back. “I’m. Ah. Very pleased to…to meet you?”

"Likewise, I’m sure," William said, and then fainted.

—

After William had been revived by his anxious brother, there were many more introductions, and a feast, and then the two princes were shwon to the chambers they would share until Thomas’ expected departure. Dorrek-Vell accompanied them, shy and unsmiling, Kl’rt following behind him like a silent dog.

Thomas retired to his bed almost immediately, leaving William and Dorrek-Vell alone—well, alone but for Kl’rt. Dorrek-Vell scowled at the massive Skrull. “Go  _away,_  Kl’rt. You don’t have to chaperon me. All you’re doing is scaring him.”

"Incorrect. Your grandfather has ordered me to guard you until the honorable intentions of the humans are certain."

"Until they’re…well, just. Stay  _quiet,_  all right? And don’t  _glare_  at him like that.”

"Of course, your highness."

Dorrek-Vell’s protectiveness was sweet enough that William almost liked him. He laughed anxiously. “I’m not sure what I  _could_  do. I’m a  _hostage,_ right?” Which he shouldn’t have said, but the stress of the day had built up far too much. “If I act up,  _poof_  goes the Earth. And. And if I  _don’t_  act up I never get to see it again anyway.”

"I,  _no,_  please don’t, I don’t want you to be—” Dorrek-Vell looked miserable. “I know my grandfather and the Accuser forced you here and. And I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have chosen it if I were in his place, or if I had  _any_  say in state matters. Not that you’re not very—and I know I’m hardly the mate you would have chosen.”

William looked away, his stomach twisting. “There was a boy I liked.”

A stricken look. “I’m sorry. But. But I won’t let them humiliate you.” A beat. “And I’ll never lay a hand on you without your leave. We’ll sleep in separate rooms if need be, in separate  _wings,_  there’ll be the tour and a wedding but then I’d understand if you never want to see me again.”

William still didn’t look at him. “…good.”

"But. Um." Dorrek-Vell shuffled his feet, bit his lip, twisted his hands in front of him. "Please consider me as an alternative to solitude?" And he smiled nervously.

"I—" William stopped. "Did you just quote  _The Princess Bride?”_

“ _…_ yes?”

"You’ve  _seen_  it?”

"It’s one of my favorite human films." Dorrek-Vell’s nervous smile broadened into a toothy grin. He also blushed. His nose flushed pink. It was strangely…cute.

William looked his intended over out of the corner of his eye and tried to find something likable about him, and was startled and almost disturbed to realize that there seemed to be a  _lot_  that was likable about him. “Mine too.”

At which point Thomas’ voice drifted in from his (mostly) closed door. “Oh, how disgusting. You’re perfect for each other.”


	39. My Bartending Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> annafh asked:  
> So much choice! How about... a TimKon, #5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 5: Bartender AU

Tim hops up onto his usual stool and groans, letting his head thud down onto the bar. “What a  _mess._ ”

And there’s a warm voice above his head. “Long day?”

"Oh my god, the  _longest._ ”

"Anything exciting happen?"

"The boss is working on another of his  _secret projects,_  he’s clammed up on me again. So instead I got to spend the day arguing with Jay about how to deal with this year’s charitable giving, and I said something wrong and now  _Steph_  is angry with me, and Dick’s off doing one of his face-of-the-corporation goodwill tours so I’ve got nobody to complain to. Plus the boss brought in his shithead kid again today, so I had to deal with  _him_  too.”

"I’m guessing you need scotch."

"I need  _so much scotch._ ”

 

Clinking, and then something cool and smooth presses against the part in his hair, and he reaches up and wraps his hand around the glass. “What is it today?”

"I saved you some Macallan."

"Con. Con, you are a  _lifesaver._ " He sits up, finally, takes a sip of the scotch and lets it roll over his tongue like the sweet nectar it is. "Oh my  _god,_  I don’t think anything could possibly be better than this.”

"Macallan’s good stuff. But I bet I could think of a few things better." And the bartender—the tall, muscular bartender, with the  _eyes_  and the  _hair_ and the  _smile_  and the  _absurdly_  warm hands—the bartender  _winks at him._

Or else Tim’s seeing things. He’s pretty sure this guy has a girlfriend. Right? …maybe he should check. “Thank you  _so_  much.” Sip. “So. Uh. How’s your girlfriend? Her name’s…Carrie, right?”

"Cassie." And… _shit,_  he’s said something wrong. “We broke up.”

 _YES!_  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry to hear that.”

"It’s all right." Con shrugs. "We’d been growing apart anyway. Different people, you know? That’s just how it goes. Besides, I was never really into blondes." And then he grins, and it’s like  _sunshine._ “Now my  _cousin’s_  got a girlfriend who’s  _really_ something. Black hair. Blue eyes. Black belt in judo.”

 _That sounds like…_ and Tim doesn’t blush. “Never did a ton of judo myself. I was always more of a jiu jitsu guy.”

"Really? I would’ve pegged you for tae kwon do, you’ve got the legs for it."

 _Now_  he blushes, but brushes it off with a, “ _Please._ Tae kwon do’s not a martial art, it’s a  _sport._  And then there’s staff fighting, but that’s a whole other thing.” Another sip, and this scotch is  _killer._ “Anything exciting happening here?”

"You know." Con shrugs. "Broke up a couple of fights. Got thrown up on. Avoided seeing my dad on the news."

 _And that’s a story there, isn’t it. Not that I wouldn’t listen to any story you tell me._  “Sounds rough.”

"It was a day."

And then… _if I don’t do it now, then when?_  ”So. Uh.”

Con looks up from wiping a puddle of beer off the bar, and he’s  _so handsome_  that it’s actively unfair. “Yes?”

"So. When do you get off tonight?"  _And can I help._  “I know a place that does  _great_  noodles.” And Tim braces for impact, gets ready for the snap of  _no thanks_  or  _I’m not interested_  or  _I’m not gay_  or  _get the fuck out of my bar._

And Con says, turning slightly pink, “I’ve only got another half an hour. Stay until then?”

 _Oh shit did he just say yes._  Tim grins nervously, reaches up to loosen his tie. “Sure. Half an hour. And then noodles.”

Con’s hand brushes his, maybe by accident, as he moves past. “It’s a date.”


	40. Fair Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flo-nelja asked:  
> Savant/Creote, 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 28: Fairy tale AU

Look, now: there are kings and queens and princes and princesses, and there are knights and nobles, and there are heroes and villains, and there are people who do magic and are neither heroes nor villains.

This is a tale about how, once upon a time, there was a prince who  _thought_  he was a villain. And it is also a tale about the knight who saved him.

So once upon a time there lived a prince who had been cast out from his kingdom, for his parents were cruel in the way that monarchs are often cruel, and he found himself wandering alone in the world. And because he was very clever, and because  _he_  could be cruel in the manner of princes, he soon fell into evil ways. The prince inhabited his wickedness with a terrible certainty, and he did more and more cruel deeds until his heart froze into a block of ice, and he became convinced that it had  _always_  been so, that he had never been a prince, only ever a villain.

Now, while the prince was wandering the world, he had met a knight, and had hired that knight to be his bodyguard and to help him in his plans. The knight was himself a lonely man, as he no longer had any kingdom at all, but he found that in very little time the prince had  _become_  his kingdom, from beginning to end, and he followed him no longer for money, but for love.

And so, this tale is also a love story.

> _That’s actually all I’ve got for the moment, as I suspect this story could end up much longer and I want to give it the attention it deserves._


	41. Seal-Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> re-sassafrass-deactivated201403 asked:  
> Teddy/Billy, number 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 28: Fairy tale AU

Once, very long ago, and in a place far from here, there lived a fisherman, and his name was William. He lived comfortably, and was well-off, but he was a lonely man, and was considered strange among the people of the town because he loved most to fish off silent beaches and secluded coves, and to avoid the company of others. He was a man who had his secrets, and he kept very much to himself.

Now, one day William the fisherman went to drag his nets near a certain beach of unfavorable repute. It was a pretty place, and quiet, but the people of the town spoke ill of it, for selkies had been seen lurking in its waters—not the sweet, kind selkies of some tales, but wicked creatures, who lived only to lure unsuspecting sea-lovers to their deaths.

William put little store in the concerns of others; he  _believed_  in the selkies, of course, but was certain that should he encounter trouble, he was well-prepared. So he dragged his nets, and the day’s fishing was good, and he was content in his solitude.

 

Near the end of the day, though, when the sun cast red fire on the surface of the waters, he pulled up his net and found something in it that was not flotsam, nor jetsam, nor any kind of fish. It was, instead, a seal-skin, soft and gleaming golden in the sun’s light. He ran his fingers along it, he turned it over in his hands, and saw that it was marked with a crown on the left flank, and as the crown-mark flashed in the sun he knew what it was he held, and that it was more precious than any fish he might have caught that day. It was a sign, he decided, that the day’s fishing was over, so he folded up the seal-skin and tucked it into his coat, and he gathered in his nets, and he returned to the shore, humming softly to himself.

And when he made land at the quiet beach that was his fishing spot for the day, someone else was already there. As he had expected.

The selkie was tall, taller than William, although only by a few inches. Its hair was golden, and its skin was golden, and its eyes were green like the sea. It wore no clothes, but was be-gemmed in princely fashion—gold in its ears, rubies on its fingers, an emerald gleaming on the side of its nose, even rings of silver piercing the webs between his toes.

It was ruinously beautiful. William gazed upon it, and knew well how selkies could lure sailors to their deaths.

The selkie hailed him as he climbed from his boat, and spoke in a voice deep and rich and full of killing music. “Fair weather, fisherman. How was the day’s catch?”

"Well enough, seal, well enough indeed." William nodded in response to its nod, and hauled his catch up onto his shoulders.

"Would you do me a favor, fisherman?" The selkie did not approach him, though it watched his every move. "I seem to have lost my skin, will you help me find it?"

"If I help you, seal, you will drag me beneath the waves to drown. I know your kind, and the tricks you play."

"I could, fisherman. I could. But I meant it truly. I have lost my skin, and I cannot find it anywhere."

William smiled. “And if I find your skin, seal, what will you give me? For I  _could_  just keep it, and burn it, and bind you to me forever.”

The selkie’s eyes flickered. “If you do  _not_  burn it, fisherman, then I will owe you a debt, and you may have whatever you ask of me.”

"A debt, hm?" William tilted his head, as if in thought. "As it so happens, I found a skin when I was fishing, but I doubt that it is yours." He drew it from his coat. "It could simply be trash, I was thinking to throw it away, or perhaps make it into a coat."

"It is mine!" The selkie took a step forward, then faltered. "Do you desire gold and gems? Then gold and gems you shall have, I will lead you to treasure troves the likes of which you have never seen. Do you desire knowledge, I will bring you books and scrolls containing all manner of forbidden lore. Ask me for love, and I will find you a bride of surpassing beauty, I will send her to you robed in silks and satins, only give me my skin."

William considered the skin in his hand. “I’ll have three truths from you, seal, that is all I desire.”

The selkie blinked, and then smiled, as if pleased. “You know more of the ways of the fae than most, fisherman. Three truths you shall have. What is the first?”

"I would like to know your name."

"That is a terrible thing to ask of me, fisherman."

"Nevertheless."

"My name is Dorrek."

"And mine is William, and it is a fine evening to meet you, Dorrek." William bowed, the skin pressed against his heart. "The second truth is one of confirmation. Are you not the same Dorrek who is known as prince of all the sea, and lord of all selkies?"

"I am he. Dorrek-Vell, eighth of my name, and I am at your service." Dorrek bowed.

"And I," said William, bowing again, "am William, called Magnus, and my mother is the Scarlet Queen of Elfland, and I have heard much of you."

Dorrek’s eyes went wide.

"And the third truth is a simple one." William handed him his skin. "Would you like to join me for dinner, o prince? For the day’s catch was very fine."

Dorrek smiled, and his eyes gleamed. “I would be more than pleased, o prince, to join you for dinner.”

—

And they lived, eventually, happily ever after.


	42. Talents and Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fatallywhimsical asked: KID OMEGA/WOLVERINE 14 HAHA SUCK IT
> 
> 14, for those of you who don’t recall, is strippers.

As soon as Logan’s through the door he knows this isn’t his kind of place. The music’s too loud and too modern, the lighting’s wrong, and there are three stages and catwalks with half-dressed people on them, twisting around poles and vamping for the crowd. But hell, there’s dollar beers, and the chicken wings smell decent, so he sits down at the bar and gets ready to shut out the world for the night.

He’s four or five…or maybe six…beers in when he suddenly smells something.

Something familiar.

 _Unwelcome_  and familiar.

He looks up at the stage next to his elbow and says, “Quire, what the  _hell_  are you doing here? Besides the fact you’re breakin’ all  _kinds_  of school rules, I know for a  _fact_  you have a trig test tomorrow.”

Quire laces his hands behind his head, shimmies his hips, blows a kiss at the crowd. “I’m eighteen. I’m a legal adult. You can’t actually  _bar_  me from doing legal work.”

“ _In loco parentis,_  kid. According to, I dunno, educational theory or something, I’m supposed to stop you doing this kinda thing. Taking your clothes off in public.”

“Oh, please. It’s not like I’m actually naked.” Quire winks at him, and for a moment the image of his barely-covered body wavers, and Logan can see—his school clothes, with requisite tee-with-snotty-slogan and the same ratty sneakers he’s always wearing. Even the fucking jacket. “What’s the point of being a psychic stripper if I can’t just make people  _think_  I’m naked?”

Logan downs his beer. “ _That_  is an abuse of your powers, and is  _definitely_ against school rules—which, as you’re a  _resident_  student, apply to you all the time. Get your ass off that stage, you’re coming back to the dorms.”

Quire rolls his eyes. “All  _right,_  if you say so. You’ll need to give me a few minutes, though, or you’ll draw a lot of attention. And wouldn’t  _that_  be good publicity for the school.”

"You got fifteen minutes, kid. Hurry up.”

—

Fourteen minutes later, Logan’s waiting by the stage door, tapping his foot irritably. And just it’s been fifteen minutes, the door swings open and Quire saunters out, a bag over his shoulder, waving to one of the girls inside. “Night, Cadence.”

“Night, Q-q.  _Ooh,_ ” she says, her eyes lighting on Logan, “ _that’s_  your daddy?”

"You know it.”

She wolf-whistles as the door closes. “Have fun, sweetie!”

As soon as it’s closed Logan growls, “I’m your  _what?_ ”

“Can’t let them know I’m still in high school. They think I’m a college student.”

“Kid, you are in  _so_  much trouble.”

Quire smirks. “Have I been  _bad,_  Daddy?”

In response Logan grabs him by the collar. “Yep. Real bad. Congratulations, Quire, you’re in detention for a month. See you get naked in public then.”

"I’ll take that bet.”

“ _Two_  months.”


	43. Child of the Glen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gayoutofhell-deactivated2015053 asked: #20 Emma Frost/Illyana Rasputina
> 
> 20:Nymphs and nature spirits AU

Emma bathes in a mossy glen of the kind much romanticized by painters. The trees overhang just enough for shade, but for one spot which contains a broad, flat rock ideal for sunning oneself and keeping clothes dry. It’s as if the place was designed specifically for a cool afternoon dip, alone or with pleasing company. Very perfect.

She scrubs off the dust with a piece of softly textured stone, rinses out her hair, and is about to stretch out to float for a bit when her  _other ears_  perk up.

She says, “Come out, if you’re a friend of Frost. If you mean me harm, though, then flee. Run like your life depends on it.”

There’s a rustle above her.

She looks up.

One of the stronger overhanging branches moves, and then is abruptly populated by a golden-haired girl whose mottled green-and-brown skin fades in and out of view among the foliage. She watches Emma with wide, unfriendly eyes and says, “Do  _you_  mean harm here, winter’s daughter?”

Emma raises an eyebrow. “What if I did?”

Suddenly, the glen darkens as the trees bend in toward her. The dryad on the branch, however, remains unmoved. “Frost kills trees. This is my forest.”

Emma stares at her, and then laughs. “Frost is no more than a  _name,_  fair spirit. Although some  _do_  call me cold, I couldn’t summon the ice any more than  _you_ could start a fire here.”

“My brother is a giant. I’ll have him crush you if you lie.”

_No lies, queen dryad._

The dryad blinks, and then disappears, flickering back into view seconds later at the foot of the glen’s largest tree. The branches part again, letting the light back in as she edges toward the water. “You’re bathing in my pool.” She’s pouting. “I’d planned to swim today.”

Emma beams. “I would welcome company, if you don’t want me to leave.”

As soon as the dryad’s foot touches the water, the whole pool shivers as if in greeting. It’s a novel sensation. It takes some focus for Emma to keep from shivering herself.

“Then I may stay?”

The dryad is watching her with interest now. “When I walk among humans I call myself Ilyana.”

“Emma.” The waters lap curiously at Emma’s skin. “Let me tell you news of the outer world.”


	44. Don't Talk To Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> manicr asked: Daken/Bullseye #5
> 
> 5:Car breaks down in the middle of nowhere AU

Lester hasn’t had a job in ages, and he's  _bored._  He doesn’t need money, he’s got plenty socked away, but sometimes it’s nice to just go out and  _kill_  someone, you know? Just to get your fucking  _rocks_  off.

Anyway, his back’s always playing up, and it keeps him from sleeping, so one night he rolls out of bed after three hours of sleeplessness, heads down to the parking garage, and gets his car. First stop, a beer–it’s past the cut-off point, but the guy at the all-night he likes isn’t going to say no to  _him._  Then, cold bottle in the cup holder next to him, he just…drives. Not going anywhere.

At first he sticks to streets he knows, but that gets boring  _fast._  A few random turns and he’s in a different neighborhood. A few more, and he’s out of the city completely, and half an hour after that he’s out of the suburbs and coasting along towards upstate and the sticks. Not going anywhere.

A flash up ahead. He slows down and squints. Cops?

No. No, it's  _way_  better. Some asshole’s car broke down. Isn’t a house for fucking miles. And if Lester's  _lucky,_  then whoever it is hasn’t called Triple-A yet and he can have some quick fun before heading back into the city. The dumb fucker even  _waves_  to him as he gets closer, and he pulls over and squints out through the window.

Dumb Fuck’s a little guy–or little- _ish_ , at least, but Lester’s tall. Asian, probably Japanese. Sides of the head shaved, long mohawk on top, expensive clothes. Tattoo creeping out of his sleeve and onto the back of his hand. Looks like a model.  _Stands_  like a model, too, this kind of effortless confidence that makes Lester wants to punch him.

Lester rolls down his window. “Kinda late to be fucking around out in the sticks, ain’t it?”

The little guy shrugs sinuously. “My car broke down. You don’t have Triple-A, do you?”

“Nah, but I know a little about cars.” Lester opens the door and steps out, covertly pulling his favorite gun out from underneath the seat as he stands.

He swings his arm up.

“So got anything interesting in there?”

The little guy grins at him, apparently oblivious to the gun pressed against his forehead. “Nothing I feel like showing you. Although it’s nice to meet a kindred spirit.”

Lester feels something and looks down to see that there’s a knife resting against his stomach. It’s a  _nice_  knife, too. The edge of the blade glints in the light from their cars.

His mouth twitches.

He says, “Fuck, you’re quick.”

“Very true. Now put down the gun and move away from your car.”

“You’ve got  _balls,_  shorty. I could fucking shoot you before you stabbed me.”

“But we’d still both be dead.”

Lester stares at him for a moment, and then snorts a laugh. “Look, just get in the fucking car, I’ll give you a lift into the city and neither of us dies.”

“Does that go for my passenger too?”

“Passenger?” Lester shifts his head slightly and sees someone lying down across the back seat of the little guy’s car, thoroughly trussed up with duct tape. “Who the fuck is  _that?_ ”

“The man who owns this car. He’s actually the one I needed to borrow, the car was an unfortunate necessity.”

“…yeah, sure, we can take him too. Why don’t we stop for some fucking Denny’s while we’re at it.”

The little guy raises an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out on a date? How sweet.”

“Look, just open the back door so we can haul him out. What’s your name?”

“Akihiro.”

“Lester.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lester.”

“Can’t say I feel the same.” But Lester grins anyway.

“Yes, by the way.”

“…yes, what?”

“Yes, let’s go on a date.”

“What? No.”


	45. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peoplearefriendsnotfood asked: Bullseye/Daredveil 24 :)
> 
> 24:Queer bar/bookstore/advocacy group/coffee shop/setting of your choice AU

Matt winces and shouts, over the noise of the music, “Danny, I don’t know if this is the place for me to find a date!”

“Come on, Matt, give it fifteen minutes.” Danny grins, knowing Matt can’t see him, and grabs his hand. “Even if you don’t dance, the bartender here is  _amazing._  He’s a  _jerk_ , but he's  _amazing._ ”

“What makes him so great?”

“Shots. He specializes in shots. Some of them are  _layered._  And you don’t even order, he just  _gives_  you one. And it’s always the right one.”

“How does he know?” Matt bumps into someone, apologizes, and crowds in close behind Danny–Danny’s good at moving through crowded spaces, it’s like he knows instinctively where everyone is around him, but he’s not super great at navigating for Matt.

Finally, though, they get to the bar, and Matt sits down, and–there’s a shot in his hand. “I didn’t order anything yet.”

“You  _don’t_  order.” A rough voice–must be the bartender. “You get what I  _give_ you.”

Matt shrugs and raises the glass. “All right, then. Hit me with your best shot.”

He downs it.

He coughs.

He says, “How did you know I liked Bailey’s?”

The rough-voiced bartender laughs. “’s what I do. I’m magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sincerely sorry, this may be one of the worst jokes I’ve ever made.


	46. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: tommy/david #24 (queer bar or advocacy group)?

The book group is back again, and they’ve got new members.

Tommy  _knows_  they’re good for the store. He  _knows_  it. They order, like, thirty copies of a book each month, and then spend something like five hundred dollars on coffee and food in the cafe while they argue about it. Five hundred each  _week,_  maybe. Some of them eat a  _lot._  And he  _knows_  the store is important, they’re the only seriously queer-friendly bookstore in the area. Definitely the only definitively safe place to hang out and meet someone that’s not eighteen-plus.

But they’re so fucking  _loud._

One of the loudest of the new members is a black guy in a check shirt. He’s got big square glasses, with yellow-tinted lenses, and as Tommy washes cups he realizes that the guy’s about to really mix it up if someone doesn’t intervene. Maybe he’s really aggressive, in which case he won’t last long in  _this_  store–oh. Oh, no, he’s arguing with Karolina, they’ve gotten sidetracked, she’s up on her high horse about  _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_  again and the new guy’s talking about bisexual erasure, and someone’ll break it up soon.

Finally Vic steps in and makes them stop yelling, and they all get back to talking about the book they’re reading right now, which is some kind of lesbian werewolf thing (explaining the detour into Buffy-land). Tommy finishes up the cups, starts putting more sweets out into the bakery case, and–

New Guy is ogling Teddy.

Like, when he’s not actually talking, he’s staring at Teddy like the big blond asshole hung the moon. And Teddy’s not  _really_  an asshole. But he  _is_  dating Tommy’s twin brother. Tommy may not be the  _best_  separated-at-birth-formerly-estranged twin brother, but he likes to think he tries.

He’ll need to take care of that.

When the group breaks for the week, he keeps an eye out to make sure New Guy doesn’t get out without a talking to. New Guy exchanges a few words with Teddy, who claps him on the shoulder– _hmm_ –and then heads over to the counter, presumably to grab a last cuppa. Good news for Tommy.

“So what’ll it be?”

“I just wanted to snag one of those brownies. And, uh, maybe an iced chai latte?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name?”

“David.”

Tommy finally looks up as he’s writing ‘David’ on the cup and freezes.

Ok, that is  _not_  fair.

David grins a  _dazzling fucking grin_  and says, “Tommy, right? Teddy said you were the one who got them permission to meet up here.”

Tommy swallows hard. “Yeah. He’s. Uh. He’s dating my twin brother.” He grabs the brownie, starts making the drink, and tries to avoid making eye contact. “So hands off him, ok? I saw the looks.”

David looks bummed, but he laughs anyway. “Don’t worry about it. He’s in a relationship. I’m not a creep.”

“Good.” Tommy finishes putting together David’s coffee and surreptitiously grabs his sharpie. He scrawls  _“do you like noodles”_  on the side that doesn’t have the name on it, puts his phone number underneath, and hands the cup over.

David pays him, takes brownie and latte, and heads out the door.

Tommy spends the next fifteen minutes in a cold sweat.  _Too much. Too fast. I freaked him out. Shit._

His phone buzzes. Text message. Unfamiliar number.

[ _Teddy said you weren’t into guys._ ]

Teddy. That  _fucker._  [ _What Teddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him._ ] _  
_

[ _Anyway I love noodles. Vietnam Noodle House, 7:30 tomorrow?_ ]


	47. Deadshot's Great Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elagabalvs asked: Deadshot and/or Secret Six 19? uvu
> 
> 19:Nanny, babysitter, childcare, etc. AU
> 
> Another friend and I once discussed an AU very much like this.

“No, Floyd.”

“C'mon, sis, we need the money.”

Scandal pinches the bridge of her nose. “I  _hate_  children, though.”

“They’re not so bad when you get  _used_  to ‘em.”

“Floyd.  _No._ ” She looks up, groaning. “Someone back me up here?”

Bane shrugs. “I am not ideally suited to working with children. But they seem to like me.”

Jeannette smiles wistfully. “I never had children.”

Ragdoll sprawls across the kitchen table, wig hanging down to the floor.  _“I like children. They have such malleable minds.”_

They all look at Thomas, who freezes in the middle of lifting his drink to his mouth and says, “Look, I’ll try anything once.”

–

They place the ads the next week, in a variety of newspapers, a couple of select radio stations, and a few publications popularly circulated among the world’s villainous elite.

 _Have children? Worried about kidnappings, murders, and hostage situations?_  
 **The Secret Six can help!**  
We have expanded our offerings to include a wide range of childcare services!  
 **Your enemies are our enemies–and most of our enemies are** **dead!**

They get the first phone call within a day.

“Look,” says a rough voice on the other end of the line, “this childcare shit for real?”

Scandal sighs and says, “Yes. Yes it is.”

“Ok, look, my name’s Steven Mandragora, I got a seven-year-old son and a big deal going down in four days. Can you show up at three o'clock on Thursday?”

> _Cue Baby-Sitter’s Club theme song_


	48. We Could Be Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meri47 asked: Young Titans, #15!
> 
> 15:Library AU

“They run a bookmobile?”

“A fleet. A fleet of bookmobiles.”

Ted stares at the horde of teenagers and twenty-somethings crowding around the customer service desk. “How do they  _afford_  it?”

Michael shrugs. “Well, the kid with the black hair in the front is Tim Drake. And the girl in the purple dress next to him is Kate Bishop. You know, from Bishop Publishing. Anyway, they want to know if they can get a bulk discount if they order through us exclusively, they said they want to support local businesses.”

Ted nods weakly. “Sure. Sure, yeah, let me go talk to them.”

–

Their headquarters was a guesthouse once, back when the main house was owned by the Clarks and the Clarks were a huge family. Then the Clarks got smaller and Merlin’s Uncle Bobby lived there, before he ran off to Europe with a German stage magician. Now Merlin’s mothers own the house, and the guesthouse is Merlin’s to use.

Teddy and Megan take charge of the remodeling. Kate and Tim give them a pretty generous budget, and they refit several of the rooms as climate-controlled book storage for the books they give away. Bart and Tommy and Jaime work together on refitting their four decommissioned school buses, painting them in ridiculous colors and installing better air conditioning and rows of shelves where most of the seats used to be.

And it’s Merlin’s house, so he gets to pick what he does. Inexplicably, he decides that he wants to be their secretary.

When they get their first phone call he picks up and chirps, “Young Titans Bookmobile and Literacy Outreach! What can I help you with today?”

A few minutes later he leans out the window and shouts, “We have an appointment for tomorrow! I assume we’re ready to go, right?”

Kon looks up from where he and Cass are passing crates of books onto one of the buses (christened REO Bookwagon by Jaime and painted a painfully vivid combination of green and silver by Tommy) and says, “We  _should_  be, when is it?”

“One-thirty in the afternoon?”

Cass grins. “Yeah, we’re good! Cassie, where do these ones go?”

Cassie squints at the crate. “That’s…oh, good, those are the health and sex ed books, those go in row ten. Merlin! Any special requests for the trip?”

“It’s a class of sixth graders, Miss Bertinelli wants them all to have a novel to keep if we can manage it!”

“All right, I’ll go get Steph and Billy and Eli and we’ll start making up a list.”

Inside the bus, Gar and America shelve books while Jackson tinkers with the AC system, but they look up when Cassie calls out, “We’ve got an appointment, guys! How does it feel?”

Gar beams. “It feels like we’re heroes.”

“Good! Run with that feeling!”


	49. Members of the Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: justice league, 21!
> 
> 21:Office job AU (hilarious shenanigans optional but encouraged)

Clark looks up from his computer. “What?”

Wally huffs. “Look, I came as fast as I could. Apokolips Dynamic’s going to attempt a hostile takeover within the week.”

“Who told you?”

“John–Jones, not Stewart–got the tip, he sent me with details.” Wally passes him a packet of papers. “He looked pretty grim.”

Clark scanned the top sheet. His eyebrows drew down. “Shoot.”

Wally covers a snicker.

“All right. Emergency board meeting. Wally, go get John– _both_  Johns–Ollie, and Dinah.” As Wally raced out of the room, Clark grabbed his phone and punched in a code. “Mm–hey, Diana.”

_“Clark! Oh, wait, is today lunch?”_

“Unfortunately no. Emergency board meeting.”

_“Shit. What’s the situation?”_

“Apokolips Dynamic’s planning a hostile takeover.”

 _“Again?”_  Diana sighs.  _“They never give up, do they?”_

He grins. “I think it’s in their mission statement.” Pauses. “Is Bruce there with you?”

There’s a faint clattering sound, and then Bruce says,  _“Clark, why would you assume I was here and not in my own office?”_

“You and Di never meet up in your office. You hate people moving your things. Anyway, emergency board meeting, you’re coming too.”

Diana takes the phone back.  _“Oh, Clark.”_  She’s laughing.  _“He’s sulking because you figured him out. See you in fifteen?”_

“See you then.”

_“Apokolips Dynamic won’t win.”_

“Do they ever?” Clark starts picking supplies off his desk.

_“Not against us, they don’t.”_


	50. Late Fees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ducttapefae asked for Secret Six, library AU!

“Aw, come on, sweetheart, can’t you give me a break?”

Lori makes a face. “Look, the DVD’s three months late. I can’t just waive that late fee. Anyway, I’m just an aide, I don’t have the power to do anything like that.”

The kid–he can’t be more than sixteen–leans across the counter. “Can’t you make an exception for me?”

“Look, no matter what you do, you’re still going to have a twenty dollar late fee.”

The kid’s face twists. “Bitch!”

Lori flushes red, her eyes narrowing.

And a shadow falls over her as a soft voice says, “Excuse me. What did you just say to her?”

The kid looks up, startled, as Lori says cheerfully, “Hi, Mr. Bane!”

–

A few minutes later Scandal emerges from the little cubicle where she takes care of the ILL requests and stops. “Lori, who dumped quarters all over the counter?”

Lori grins at her. “Mr. Bane scared a teenager. He had a big late fee.”

Scandal turns to Bane. “What did the kid do to deserve you  _trying_  to scare him?”

“He insulted Lori.”

“Oh.” She thinks about it. “Ok, good. Maybe he’ll be politer next time.”


	51. Five-Minute Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thenightie asked: Hi! If I can write prompt, I think number 28 could be entertaining with Daken and Bullseye :)  
> 28:Speed dating after being single for a while AU

Lester doesn’t even look up when the next person sits down. “Just starting things off, I’m here under fucking protest, my dumb-shit friend hauled me here.”

“That’s all right,” says a smooth voice from the other side of the table. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”

Lester looks up in surprise. “Thought I said women-only on the app for this bullshit.”

“You probably did.” The guy who sat down with him shrugs. “I came with a friend, she wanted me to cover for her while she went and introduced herself to someone.” He jerks his chin at a table across the room, where a striking redhead is chatting up a woman with brown hair and dark glasses.

“Cover for–why? What?”

“Or maybe I’m just using that as an excuse because I thought you looked interesting.”

Lester looks around, scowling. “There’s gotta be some signal I can give to get them to haul you off.”

Luckily, the timer shrieks, and the guy smirks, gets up, and wanders off somewhere. Lester doesn’t bother looking to see where he goes.

He had stupid hair anyway.

He moves, and his elbow slides on something unexpected on the table. A little name card, like the ones they’ve all got here.  _Akihiro._  With a phone number beneath it, a doodle of a grinning, mohawked face, and a note.  _Call me!_ _  
_

Lester mutters, “This is idiotic,” and tucks the card into his pocket.


	52. To Boldly Go Too Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> antiheroicshenanigans asked: Tommy/Kate, #7 (exobiology)

“God _dammit,_  Shepherd!”

“What?” Tommy grins, ducking his head against the wind and revving the engine. “If we don’t go faster we’ll never catch up to it!”

“We’re trying to  _tranq_  it, not run it  _down!_ There’s a  _reason_  I have a long-range gun!” Kate rises up on the back of the motorcycle and shoulders her tranquilizer rifle, sighting along the barrel as the scenery whips past.

Tommy crows with delight as he chases the retreating back of the alien, which whuffs and glances back at them before speeding up. And the recoil on the tranq rifle is minimal, but traveling at such high speeds means that even the littlest jolt can through Kate off-balance. She wavers, drops the rifle–it bangs into her hip, held up its carry-strap–and seizes the nearest thing to hand to stabilize herself.

That being Tommy’s hair.

He crows again. “I’m feeling it too, Katie baby!”

“You asshole, that's  _not_  what I meant!” She thumps back down onto her seat, and a moment later they’re skidding around and to a stop next to the fallen form of the tranquilized alien.

He pulls up his goggles and grins at her. “So we're  _not_  having a celebratory makeout session next to our first xeno catch?”

“No!” She pauses. “Maybe. Wait,  _no._  Look, we don’t know how long the tranquilizer’s going to work on this guy, it’s a wonder it even worked at  _all._  What we  _need_  to do is call for pickup.”

Tommy rolls his eyes and turns on his comm. “Billy, Teddy, we’ve got one of those big mammoth-raptor things. Yes, the ones with the purple feathers.  _Ow,_ don’t shout, I'm  _very_  glad you’re excited about it.” He listens, then turns the comm off again. “They’ll be here in five.”

“Excellent.” She shakes her arms out, cracks her neck, and looks with some satisfaction at the tranq dart, sticking out of the precise center of the back of the alien’s neck.

“That was a good shot.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Another moment of stretching. “We can make out once we’re back at the base.”

“All  _right._ ”


	53. Come And Be Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geoboy-world asked: Not really a ship, but the Young Titans 26
> 
> 26:Sex shop, adult bookstore, etc.

“And remember, you can sign up in advance for any of our workshops! Just send an email to the address on the bottom of the flyer.”

America scans the sheet she’s just been handed with a raised eyebrow. It’s a decent list of workshops, for a small store. Rope Bondage 101 with Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake. Open Communication For Open Relationships with Kate Bishop, Merlin Baker, and guest Kory Anders. Body Positivity with Theodore Altman. Sexy Anatomy for the Enthusiastic Amateur, with Jackson Hyde and Rachel Roth. “One hell of a list you got here.”

The blonde girl at the counter–her nametag reads “CASSIE”–grins. “We try to please all comers.”

“In order,” says the other blonde stocking the lube shelves, whose name is apparently  _also_  Cassie, “to help you all come pleasingly.” Then she wiggles her eyebrows.

Cassie-at-the-counter claps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

America snorts and stifles a laugh, the bag on her arm jingling. “Yeah, ok, I can run with that.”


	54. Hunger Comes Quickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> persychan asked: 16, obviously Creote/Savant.
> 
> 16:Masquerade-less AU
> 
> Ok, so, shaded-mazoku already asked for this one, which is pretty funny. But I’ve got a lot of supernatural juice in me, so for you, I’m doing this one as a follow-up to the vampire!Savant/hunter!Creote thing I did for you a few months ago, which you did say you wanted more of. ^_^

The vampire is sitting in the corner of Sasha’s hotel room and sulking. It doesn’t sound very dramatic–vampires are typically depicted in fiction as more  _brooding_ –but sulking is the accurate term. There’s a hint of a pout, even.

Sasha is sitting on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots, which is a bit of a project given that they go all the way up to his knees. He’s already chalked defensive sigils onto the windowsills and the threshold of the door and hung up his coat, and his kit is laid out on top of the dress in a small protective circle. The dirty dishes from room service are in the hall already, since he tries not to invite people into his private rooms unless he absolutely has to.

He finally shucks his boots and lines them up neatly next to the bed, then starts to unbutton his shirt.

The vampire–Brian–is  _in_  his sulk because Sasha brushed off his earlier attempts at conversation. Now he’s perched in the room’s one armchair, knees drawn up under his chin and his bare toes curling over the edge of the cushion. He watches Sasha with faintly luminous eyes. The binding cuff around his wrist has already tarnished with the activation of its spells, and the sigils on it writhe under the skin of the metal.

He says, plaintively, “I'm  _hungry._ ”

“You had an omelette and three servings of bacon and five pancakes.” Sasha has to suppress a smile as he shrugs off his shirt and folds it. Watching the vampire plow through food like a teenager had been entertaining.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You caught me before I got any  _real_ dinner tonight.”

“I know.” Sasha undoes his belt and sets it aside, tugs his undershirt out of his jeans. “If I had a packet of blood I would give it to you, but at this time of night all the butcher shops will be closed.”

Brian makes a face. “Just as well. Pig’s blood gives me the hiccups.”

“Come over here.”

There’s a brief silence as Brian blinks at him repeatedly. “I beg your pardon?”

Sasha sits down at the head of the bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard and stretching his legs out. “I said, come over here.”

Brows wrinkled, Brian gets out of his chair and approaches the bed. “Was there…was there something you wanted?”

Sasha tilts his head to one side, exposing his neck. “No more than a pint and a half.”

The vampire does nothing.

Sasha raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You’re letting me… _you’re_  my dinner?”

“I’m not letting you eat anyone  _else,_  if that’s what you’re asking. And I don’t believe in starving people.”

Brian takes a step forward, then pauses. “Shouldn’t we have done this  _before_ you ate dinner?”

“I have a protein bar.”

Another moment of nervous nothingness, and then the vampire gets onto the bed beside him, then moved to sit straddling Sasha’s legs. He pauses to pull his own long hair out of the way before leaning in and fastening his teeth on Sasha’s neck.

It doesn’t hurt, exactly. Vampires produce a mild anesthetic in their saliva, presumably to make hunting easier. Instead the skin of Sasha’s throat tingles, the contact points of the bite a faint and almost pleasurable prickle along his nerves. Brian’s hands close over his shoulders, and there’s a moment of  _tug_ before the blood truly begins to flow.

Sasha feels light-headed almost immediately. And he can feel the vampire getting warm, going from room temperature to normal human ranges, almost feverish, in a matter of seconds. Or perhaps it’s not feverish, and it’s just that the slow but steady loss of blood is making Sasha feel cold.

He counts the seconds carefully, trying as best as he can to monitor how much Brian’s had to drink, and when he judges that it’s been a bit more than a pint he lifts a hand and taps the vampire on the chest, saying weakly, “Stop now.”

He can  _feel_  the fangs coming out of his neck. Brian leans back, rolls his neck, looks down at Sasha, and then leans back in.

Sasha starts to get worried about the strength of his binding magic–

The vampire is  _licking_  the bite mark–perhaps cleaning up any spilled blood, but also laving the punctures themselves with a focus that puzzles Sasha until he feels them  _closing._ And it's is more erotic than Sasha would care to admit, especially given how long it’s been since he’s been with anyone in a sexual context. Ideally Brian will be a gentleman and not comment on his erection, since he has no intention of turning  _this_  into that sort of encounter.

Brian settles back a bit, moving his head up so he can look Sasha in the eyes, and says, softly, “Thank you. You’re kinder by far than many hunters would be in this situation. Most would have let me go hungry.”

“I don’t believe in starving people,” Sasha says. “Not even demons.”

“May I kiss you? Verbal thanks seem somewhat inadequate.”

Sasha, who was in the middle of trying to say something else, stops and stares.

Brian seems to take the stare as assent and leans forward to kiss him. Sasha can feel the vampire’s fangs against his lower lip–and, for a disconcerting moment, taste his own blood on the vampire’s tongue.

When Brian gets up and returns to his chair, Sasha sits for another moment, stunned, and then digs the protein bar out of his pocket. It’s slightly crushed, but that’s hardly important for replenishing blood. And though his normal inclination is to sleep naked, this night he leaves on his boxers and undershirt, feeling obscurely as if undressing entirely in front of the vampire would lead to things happening that he’s not prepared for at the moment.

He pulls up his blankets and turns out the light.

Across the room, Brian’s eyes glow in the darkness, and he says, pleasantly, “Thank you, Sasha. Good night." 


	55. Slim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Slogan 23
> 
> 23: Pet rescue/shelter volunteer AU

The Doberman is waiting for Logan when he gets to the shelter. It’s sitting by the door, practically at attention, back straight. It’s no stray, either–clean coat, trimmed nails, collar with tags, and (unpleasantly) clipped ears and bobbed tail. And a  _big_  scar on one hip.

The little stump of tail is thumping in some kind of anticipation, and Logan frowns and crouches in front of it, hands out. “Heya, bub. What’s your story?”

The dog stares at his outstretched hand and then plants a paw firmly in his palm.

Logan snorts. “Nice shake there, bub.” He reaches for the collar to check the tag, which reads SLIM in copperplate with a phone number beneath.

He has just enough time to remember the phone number and get a glimpse for sex before Slim growls and he has to snatch his hand away.

Scowling, he stands and backs away, and Slim makes no move to attack him as he unlocks the door to the shelter. He  _does_  bound in at Logan’s heels, and then goes to wait patiently next to the desk.

Logan stares at him. “Weird.”

Slim scents the air, then goes over to the door that leads to the first of the communal dog rooms and whines softly.

“I…look, you stay put.  _Sit. Stay._ ”

 _Thump._  Slim sits down and shoots him a pitiful look.

Puzzled, Logan grabs the desk phone and dials the number from Slim’s tag.

Pickup on the third ring. “Scott Summers.”

Logan clears his throat. “Yeah, look, I’m calling from Howling River Animal Shelter. You own a Doberman named Slim?”

“Oh, thank god. He got out this morning when I was getting the paper and I couldn’t catch up with him.” There’s a nervous pause. “He hasn’t bitten anyone, has he?”

“Little bit of growling, but no teeth. He get aggressive sometimes?”

“He’s a rescue dog. From a fighting ring. He can be…unpredictable.” Scott Summers laughs. “If he went to you, though…we ran into one of your volunteers the other day, walking a few of the dogs? He was playing with a red setter.”

“Jeannie.”

“I think he’s got a crush.”

Logan snorts. “Well, he’s been good so far. Come pick him up, though, ok? We’ve got limited food resources as it is.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”


	56. A Collective Effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Could you do 14 Tim/Kon/Bart?
> 
> 14:Kissing booth AU

It’s not really a kissing  _booth._

It’s honestly more of a kissing  _counter._

Tim and Kon and Bart sit in a row, beaming in a vaguely intimidated way. The sign over their heads reads “WAYNE SCHOLARS FOUNDATION. KISSES $1.50.”

There’s a  _long_  line. In fact there are  _three_  long lines.

The other fundraising attractions are doing ok, so that’s good. Kaldur’s fishing game is a big hit. Artemis is running a ring toss so frustrating that people are paying money just to yell at it. Megan’s doing palmistry and making up outrageous lies that everybody loves.

But they’re not making as much money as the kissing booth.

Kon blinks up at the blonde girl who’s just gotten to the head of the line. “Weren’t you just in Tim’s line?”

She grins at him and hands over six quarters. “I’m hitting all three. Pucker up, big guy.”

True to her word, too, after she kisses Kon, she heads to the back of Bart’s line and waits patiently for her turn again.

And then after Bart she gets back in line  _again._

This time, when she gets up to where Tim’s sitting, she says, “Look, here’s the thing. A buck fifty is pocket change. I’ll donate a hundred bucks if you guys all make out.”

Bart’s nose turns red. Kon, who was tilting his chair back on two legs, almost falls over, and is only saved by grabbing frantically at the edge of the table.

Tim glances over at them, raises an eyebrow, and turns back to the blonde girl. “Do you actually  _have_  one hundred dollars?”

In response she pulls two fifties out of her pocket and displays them for him to see. “I put my money where my mouth is.”

A guy waiting next to her in Kon’s line says, “Hell, I’d pitch in another ten for that.”

The girl behind him scrabbles for her wallet and says, “I’ve got seven bucks here!”

The three lines suddenly erupt in a clamor of people shouting dollar amounts and waving around money.

Tim does some quick calculation based on the numbers he’s hearing and then looks over at Kon and Bart again. “So…if we make out we’ll be raising at least five hundred dollars for scholarships. All at once. And then we can take this table down.”

Kon says, “Hands stay above the waist.”

There’s a collective sigh, but the blonde says, “That’s fair.”

“Don’t pull my hair,” is Bart’s contribution.

Tim cracks his knuckles and stands up. “Ok, then! Money up front, then you get a show.”

As one the crowd cheers.


	57. Student Exhibition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Would you be able to do Merlin/Noh 2 (but set at Merlins school?)
> 
> 2:Art school, museum, gallery, etc. AU
> 
> It’s not quite at his school? But it’s school groups, you get to see a couple of Merlin’s “normal” friends.

Merlin’s mouth drops open. He claws at Jason’s arm. “Oh my god. One of the other school groups just got here.”

Jason turns and gapes. “Holy  _shit._  They don't  _come_  like that at our school.”

“Check out the girl in the purple, oh my  _god,_  her  _legs,_  I think I might faint.”

“I always forget you actually like girls too, you spend so much time drooling over–”

They both fall entirely silent, staring.

At the door to the other school’s bus there’s a boy with hair so fair it almost looks white. He’s helping down a blonde girl with a medical alert bracelet on her wrist.

“He  _can’t_  be real,” says Maddie feelingly, having materialized at Merlin’s elbow. “He’s one of the art projects, right? Humans don’t actually look like that without Photoshop. Just you watch, I’m gonna try to get his number and he’s gonna be a robot.”

Just then Mr. Volante, who’s been conferring with the teacher from the other school (an enormous, dark-skinned man with a vivid smile who looks like he spends a lot of time at the gym for an art teacher), claps his hands. “All right, kids, let’s get this show set up! You all have the layouts you worked out last week; start hanging your art! The first visitors will be here in an hour and a half.”

Merlin heads to the section of the gallery that’s been assigned to his school, portfolio under his arm, and finds that the other school, the one full of hot people, has the next space over. He’s hanging paintings elbow-to-elbow with a tall, curly-haired Latina girl, who glances over at his pieces and says, “Nice brushwork. Very precise.”

He blushes. “Thanks. I like the star theme you’ve got going on yours.”

“Thanks, coppertop.” She grins at him. “America.” _  
_

“Your name is _America?_ ”

“That’s what my moms say.”

Merlin shrugs. “Well, my moms named me Merlin, so I guess I can’t really talk there.”

“A ginger wizard. Very British.” She scowls darkly at one of her art pieces, tweaks it until it’s hanging straight, and then leans over and murmurs, “So. The girl you were talking to before, the one with the nose piercing and the green hair. What’s her name?”

Merlin grins. “That’s Maddie.”

“She single?”

“Pretty much always.”

“She gonna punch me if I ask for her number?”

Merlin blinks, and then shrugs. “She’s not really a punching type. You should ask her, I bet she’d give it to you.”

“ _Hell_  yes.”

“Can I ask you something? Question for question?”

“Sure, coppertop.”

“Who’s the guy with the white hair?”

America tilts her head slightly in the direction of her classmates. “The GQ model or the Jersey boy with his roots growing out?”

Merlin blushes. “GQ.”

“That’s Noh. He’s an exchange student. Romanian, I think.” She looks Merlin up and down. “You should go for it. I don’t know  _what_  the hell he is, but it certainly isn’t any flavor of straight. Guy’s got a Kinsey score of x the fucking unknown.”

Merlin snorts, trying so hard not to burst out laughing that he almost damages the canvas in his hands.

They get their pieces set up and help their classmates for a while more without talking to each other. Just before the exhibition’s due to open, though, America edges over to him and elbows him gently. “Got you a little something, coppertop.” She passes him a slip of paper.

He unfolds it, and there’s a phone number and a note.  _I like your hair. Call me. –Noh Varr._

He turns bright red. “Shit. Thanks. And, uh, here.” He hands her a similar slip, grinning internally at the memory of Maddie’s thrilled expression as she wrote down her phone number.

America beams at him. “I  _like_  you, coppertop. You’re a good kid.”


	58. The Perils Of The Rental Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My pal cheerlesshazemaniac asked for Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, 5:Car breaks down in the middle of nowhere AU

Steve and Natasha are an hour out on the trip when the rental car starts making worrying noises, but for the moment neither of them pays much attention. Most rental cars make worrying noises, right? It’s just sort of one of the perils of rental cars, along with weird smells, ugly paintwork, and outdated stereo equipment.

Natasha sits in the passenger seat with her bare feet up on the dashboard and her nose buried in a book. “Next time I pick the rental place.”

He grins. “I don’t even know how you can read in the car like that.”

“It’s a talent. I’m talented.”

At the two and a half hour mark, the car stalls briefly at an intersection. It’s a little worrying, but they get started back up ok, so they don’t concern themselves too much. Natasha puts on a mixtape of Russian pop music, and she and Steve argue genially about whether or not it’s any good as they coast along the highway.

The car stops running completely four hours in.

The wheels jolt to a stop, and Steve presses on the gas. No response.  _“Shit.”_

Natasha blinks. “You swore.”

“It’s a swearing occasion! The car broke down!” He peers out the window. “And we’re in…”

“West Bumfuck.” Natasha tucks her paperback into the glove compartment. “Hang on, I’ll call us a tow truck.”

As she hunts for her AAA card, Steve tries a few things to see if he can get the engine kickstarted. When someone knocks on the partially-lowered window, he looks up in surprise, rolls the window down the rest of the way–and then freezes.

The man knocking on their window says, softly, “Do you need help getting your car onto the side of the road?”

Steve stares at him. “…Bucky?”

The man twitches, blinks, frowns. “Who’s Bucky?”

“I…” Steve shakes his head. “Sorry. You remind me of…of someone I used to know. Yeah, we could use some help.”

“Put it in neutral, I’ll help you roll it over to the side of the road.”

Natasha’s found her AAA card, but she’s not dialing. She just eyes the newcomer warily as Steve shifts the car into neutral.

The newcomer reaches in to turn the steering wheel, to angle the car towards the side of the road. Steve notices with a start that his left arm isn’t flesh, it’s a sophisticated-looking prosthetic, just before the wheel comes off in the smooth grey hand.

The newcomer stares at the steering wheel in his hand, looking surprised. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve laughs nervously. “Teach me to rent from  _that_  place again.” He climbs out of the driver’s seat, leaving Natasha to call for a tow truck as he and the stranger push the deceased rental car over onto the shoulder. “So. Uh. Are…do you live in the area?”

The stranger frowns at his reflection in the rear window. “…maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I…don’t really know.”


	59. This Is What Happens Every Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ducttapefae requested Dark Avengers, 21:Office job AU

Karla’s palm hits the desk. “Hand wants to see you in her office.”

She looks pleased about it, which means that Hand is probably angry.

Lester sneers. “Tell her I’ll be there after lunch.”

“I don’t run your errands.” _  
_

“But you run _hers?_ ”

“ _She_  said  _please._ ” She smirks. “And the longer you make her wait the madder she’s going to be.”

Lester rolls his eyes, shoves his chair back, and stands up. There’s a faint wolf whistle behind him, and he flips off the next desk without without. “Fuck you, Howlett.”

Daken blows him a kiss. “Love to.”

“I’m calling fucking HR.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be here.”

He dodges the wasteland of chip bags and candy wrappers that is Mac’s desk, tiptoes vaguely nervously past where Bob is typing with glacial slowness, and tries to wave to Ares. Ares ignores him. This is how it usually goes.

He goes into Hand’s office.

Karla perches on the edge of Mac’s desk, in the only clear spot, and Daken softly counts down, “Five…four…three…two…one…”

 _“Poindexter.”_  Victoria Hand is a woman with a very fine voice, and it carries. “You are in  _big trouble._ ”


	60. Nothing Like The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @ducttapefae also asked for Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, 16: Masquerade-less supernatural au

She glides down in a whisper to land on the edge of the roof, and Stephanie beams at her. “ _Hey_  there. What took you so long?”

“Water-horse.” Cass sits down beside her, folding her left wing around both of them to pull Stephanie close. “At the river.”

Stephanie’s sparkling hand finds Cass’ sharp-nailed one. “A  _water-horse?_  Oh my  _god,_  you  _never_  see those around now. Did it belong to someone?”

“Ivy.”

“Huh. That’s weird for her.”

Cass shrugs wordlessly. Her long ears twitch as across Gotham sirens wail–ambulance and police, at least, not the real kind. The night is a map of noises, only Stephanie’s face, her glittering skin and diamond eyes, visible to Cass’ weak eyesight.

After a moment Stephanie lays her head on Cass’ shoulder. Cass can feel the other woman’s own wings pulled tight against her back. Their hands remain entwined. Stephanie murmurs, “I love this city. It makes itself awfully hard to love, but I really do. I love it.”

“It…it has a place. A place for me.” Cass struggles with the words for a moment. “A place for us.”

Stephanie giggles mischievously, a little sleigh-bell jingle. “Us?” She snuggles closer.

“Our kind. And…and  _us._  You and me.”

“You  _romantic,_  you.”

“Yes.”

Stephanie’s hair–like spun gold but stronger, worth a fortune at any jeweler’s and triple that fortune on the black market–glows as Cass presses her face into it. It feels so warm, as warm as sunlight, soft against her cheek and smelling of flowers and sweet citrus. Stephanie makes another happy jingling noise and rubs her cheek against the fine fur of Cass’ wing.

And then both of their heads go up. Cass says, “I hear it.”

“I can feel it.”

And as the signal lights up they’re off across the sky together.


	61. Do It With A Rockstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bisexualhappyquinn asked: TommyDavid, 18 (Musicians/band/something of this nature AU)!

David’s phone rings in a swell of operatic wailing, and he picks it up without even taking his eyes off his computer screen. “David Alleyne speaking. Hello, Mr. Summers.”

Because it’s not like the fucking head of the company calls him every day,  _noooooo._  Gotta play it cool.

And Scott Summers, the  _head_  of X Records, says,  _“David, I have a problem, and I think you can solve it for me.”_

David nods slowly. “What problem is that, Mr. Summers?”

He hears…a heavy sigh.  _“I need you to pick Tom Shepherd up from a party.”_

“Tom Shepherd the lead singer of Speed?” David’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know I work in legal, right, sir? I’m not a chauffeur."  _If this is a race thing I’m quitting._

 _"No, no, I know that. We already_ sent _a chauffeur five hours ago, is the problem.”_  Some rustling and thumping.  _“In fact I just got a text from him. I can’t read what it says, but he’s attached a photograph of a woman in a latex catsuit balancing a full shot glass on her nose. Under the circumstances I don’t think he’s in any shape to drive.”_

“What makes you think  _I’ll_  be able to do it, Mr. Summers?”

_“You’ve got a reputation for being level-headed and determined. You don’t let things phase you. And you’re smart, which is important. Tom’s an intelligent guy, even if he doesn’t act like it in public. He respects other intelligent people.”_

“Uh…thank you, sir.” David frowns, then shrugs. “I’ll do my best, Mr. Summers. Give me fifteen minutes to get things tied up here and I’ll be on my way.” _  
_

_“Thank you, David. I’ll text you the details you need.”_

–

In his office on the top floor, Scott slumps in his chair and heaves a sigh of relief. “There’s that taken care of.” He reaches for his laptop, to pull up the addresses Alleyne needs, and takes another glance over the personnel file before switching windows. His gaze lingers briefly on Alleyne’s ID photo. “It doesn’t hurt that he's  _exactly_  Tom’s type.”

–

The party’s audible from three blocks away. David navigates towards it with some care–normally he’d just be taking the subway everywhere, but he’s got a company car  _just_  to pick this guy up.

He pulls up outside the hotel the band is staying in/terrorizing, and an exhausted-looking valet approaches his open window. “Are you with the Shepherd party?”

“Sort of?” David grins. “I’m hopefully here to  _end_  the Shepherd party.”

“ _Oh_  thank god.” The valet looks like she might start crying with relief. “You can…you can just leave the car here, I won’t let anyone steal it. Just get them  _out._ ”

“Thanks. Where do I find the party?”

“Where  _won’t_  you find the party? Seriously, just go in, you can’t miss it.”

–

Navigating the Speed party involves a lot of yelling, some frantic arm-waving, stepping on several feet (mostly by accident), and at one point a joint lock when it seems like he isn’t otherwise going to be able to escape getting aggressively hugged by a drunk man in a bunny costume. Tom Shepherd is everywhere and nowhere, having apparently always been  _right here just a minute ago_  wherever David is. At one point David  _does_  spot the company chauffeur who drunk-texted Mr. Summers; he’s focused entirely on the chest of a woman with whom he’s doing some kind of dance that’s very heavy on hip movement. _  
_

And…suddenly David’s holding a lollipop.

He looks up, startled, and Tom Shepherd–singer and lead guitarist of worldwide pop sensation Speed, outspoken mental health rights activist, and subject of an  _extremely naked_  Rolling Stone photo shoot that David may or may not have torn out of the magazine and hidden under his pillow–is standing in front of him and grinning. The white paper stick of a lollipop pokes out of the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” he shouts over the music. “People said you were looking for me.”

David draws himself up. “Mr. Shepherd, I’m David Alleyne from X Records. Mr. Summers sent me to get you ready for your press conference tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, right. Press conference. Right. Have a lollipop.”

David squints at the lollipop. “Is it drugged?”

“What?” Tom Shepherd looks offended. “No, that’d be an offense to good candy. Have a lollipop.”

Dubiously, David peels the wrapper off, sticks it in his pocket, and pops the lollipop into his mouth.

It’s cherry flavored.

Tom Shepherd watches him the whole time.

Until suddenly instead of just watching him he’s saying, “Let’s get out of here, this party’s past its prime and the staff probably need to clean up.” He drags David over to the DJ booth, steals the DJ’s microphone, and shouts into it, “Ok, everybody, party’s over!”

The entire room groans.

“No, seriously, people here have jobs to do, go get laid or sober or some sleep or something, we can have another party tomorrow or sometime like that. Noh, hey, cut the music.”

The DJ nods and hits a switch, and with the sudden loss of music the room seems much less crowded. Then he pulls his headphones off, and he and Tom bump fists. “Peace, Tom. I’m going to get some curry.”

As he wanders off, Tom says to David, “That’s Noh. He’s my rhythm guy. My main man. He’s an alien from outer space. You like noodles? Let’s go get noodles. You’re driving, though, I’m a little buzzed.”

David blinks, and then nods, feeling like he’s been outpaced somewhere. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, sure, ok.”

They stop at the front desk and Tom gives the clerk a thousand dollars to cover damages.

In twenties.

–

The noodles are pretty awesome. Mid-way through the meal, David tries to ask, “Why’d you call off the party so quickly? Mr. Summers said you’d been hard to budge.”

“Did it for you.” Tom swallows his mouthful of noodles, ignoring the small crowd of fans ogling them from the next booth. “You’d do it for me, right? We’re friends. Friends do things for friends.”

–

That Rolling Stone photographer  _really_  didn’t do Tom Shepherd’s full naked glory justice.

–

After the press conference, Mr. Summers comes to find David  _personally._  “I don’t know how you did it, David, but that was some exemplary work there. I think this is the first time anyone’s managed to get Tom to show up on time  _and_ fully dressed.”

David goes through a list of Roman emperors in his head and doesn’t think about the hand print on his ass. “All in a day’s work, Mr. Summers.”

“Well, I’m impressed. And you’re promoted, congratulations. You’re Tom’s new company liaison, you’ll be going on tour with him. The last one said he was completely unmanageable and left to work on a sheep farm in New Zealand.”

Startled, David stammers his thanks. Over Mr. Summers’ shoulder Tom Shepherd–singer and lead guitarist of worldwide pop sensation Speed, outspoken mental health rights activist, and apparently both multi-orgasmic  _and_ enthusiastic about giving head–winks at him.


	62. Very Metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tandlerovmusic asked: ALL OF THE AU MEME PROMPTS (Except probably not): No.10 - Billy/Teddy Punk AU. No. 14: Kon Vs. the JLA. No. 24 - Queer Card Shop Trolls - Simon/Loki. No. 36 - Merlin/Bart. No. 38 - Bathing in Lave AU - Clark Kent/Whoever you want.
> 
> 10:Hipster, punk, goth, etc. AU

Billy was worried, at first, about getting lost in the club. This was along with all of his other worries–getting an infection from the safety pin through his ear, getting hepatitis from the shop where he got his septum done, getting fired from work for shaving off his hair. A lot of the background noise of Billy Kaplan’s life was vague worry.

A faint voice in the back of his head said,  _That’s not very punk of you, worrying all the time,_  and he told it to shut the fuck up, because he did what he fucked  _wanted_  even  _if_  he worried about it all the time.

When he  _got_  to the club, though, he realized that he wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost, because it was basically the size of a closet. The walls were covered in flyers, the freshest ones advertising that night’s show ( _SPEED,_  they screamed, in a font that was actually  _readable_  only because Tommy had let Billy design them).

There was a crowd outside, but he elbowed his way through and up to the door, where the bouncer squinted down at him and said, “Five dollars cover.”

“I’m on the list.” He held up his ID.

“Fuck no, you’re…shit, guess you are, go the fuck inside.”

The place seemed a  _little_  less closet-like inside, but it was still pretty crowded. Billy only managed to get to the bar and snag a beer by sheer force of will. He'd  _planned_  on edging over to the stage to wish Tommy a good show while he and his bandmates were getting set up, but then he got distracted by a sudden howl of,  _“Fight!”_

A  _fight?_  At  _Tommy’s_  show?

Billy hurried over pretty much just to make sure Tommy wasn’t in the middle of it.

Luckily, Tommy  _wasn’t_  in the middle of the fight. Instead, Billy saw, first, a guy who’d fallen on his ass, and who appeared to be bleeding from the mouth. Then there was a girl with ripped purple everything and an eyebrow ring who was standing over Guy-On-His-Ass and snarling, “You fucking put a  _hand_  on me again–!” The blood on her knuckles suggested that she was  _probably_  the one doing the punching.

And then there was a  _golden fucking god_  in an  _epically_  destroyed vest and  _very tight pants_  and  _not much else,_  and he interrupted the protests of Guy-On-His-Ass with a firm, “You. Out. You’re banned from the show.” He waved and caught the bouncer’s eye. “Hey, Frankie! Toss this guy before he pisses me off enough to make me do it!”

Guy-On-His-Ass gaped and scrambled upward and was gone in two seconds flat.

Golden God turned to the girl in purple. The many rings in his ears jingled against each other. “Sorry about that, Kate. Thought they’d gotten rid of that creep months ago.”

She shrugged, wiping the blood off her knuckles with the hem of her shirt. “He got what he was fucking asking for. I need a drink.”

Golden God nodded–and then spotted Billy.

And  _smiled._

And said, “Hey! You must be Billy.”

“I…I…what? Yes.” Billy gaped. “Yes, I am. Billy, that is. Billy is me. Who are you? How did you know? That I’m Billy.”

“Well, the fact that you look just like one of my best friends kinda gave it away.” Golden God held out a hand. “Teddy.”

His palm was warm. Billy’s was…probably sweaty. “Wait, bassist Teddy? Shit, I’ve heard a ton about you, Tommy’s always saying you’re a huge dork."  _Shit shit shit why did I say that._

Teddy was…not offended.  _Oh good._  In fact he was grinning. "He says the same thing about you.”

“Altman!” Tommy howled from the stage. “Stop hitting on my brother and get your damn kit set up!”

“Shit, I gotta go.”

“Wait. Wait. Hitting on?”

“Catch you after the show!” And Teddy was gone backstage.

Billy stared after him, beer slowly warming in his hand.


	63. Special Weapons And Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashkaztra asked: Savant/Creote, 16? :D
> 
> 16:Masquerade-less AU (vampires, werewolves, and other supernatural beings are known and integrated into society however you want)

Ollie raises an eyebrow. “So whatta they  _do?_  The big guy’s a werewolf, right?”

Dinah blinks. “What?”

“They have to do  _something._  They gave you ladies a real fight, right? No straight could do that. So I’m guessing the big guy’s a werewolf.”

Dinah stares at him for a moment, and then claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “You're  _way_  off-base. Hey, Savant! Creote! Come over here and meet Green Arrow.”

Her two guests come over. The shorter of the two–which is pretty relative, they’re both tall fuckers, but the one who’s under seven feet–holds out a hand. “Oliver Queen. A pleasure to meet you.”

Ollie recoils. “How’d you–”

“He’s a demon.”

“What?”

“I–damn. I answered the wrong question first, didn’t I?”

The  _enormous_  man pats him on the shoulder. “It happens, Mr. Savant. Don’t worry. I think he wants you to explain how you knew his name first.”

Ollie nods vigorously.

“Right, yes.” The shorter man smiles brightly. “Precognition. And my associate here is a demon.  _My_  demon, that is, not just an unbonded demon floating around.” He doesn’t seem to notice that his companion–his demon–starting to blush faintly at ‘my.’ “He helps me stay organized and keep things straight, so that I don’t. Ah.”

“Forget?”

“Yes, exactly.”

The big demon rubs his brow and then offers a hand himself. “Mr. Queen, I am Creote. My employer is Brian Durlin, but he prefers to go by Savant.”

 _This_  guy Ollie shakes hands with. “ _Ok_  then. Dinah tells me you’re…criminals.”

Savant shrugs. “It was the only way I could see things going that didn’t end in an early and ignominious death.”

_“Really.”_

Dinah slings an arm around Ollie’s shoulders. “It’s a long story, Ollie. Anyway, we should take them to meet the others.”

“Bats is gonna flip his  _shit_  when he finds out you let a  _demon_  into the Watchtower, you know that, right?”

The corner of Creote’s mouth twitches up slightly, and Savant says, “Oh, don’t worry about that. He already knows.”

“ _Course_  he does.”


	64. The Truth Is Up There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> axonsandsynapses asked: Dick/Babs, 7 (mostly because now I'm imagining Dick and Barbara as Mulder and Scully, and the image is kinda fantastic.) Alternatively, 15 where Barbara Gordon is a research librarian at a university and Stephanie Brown and Kate Bishop are student workers (other Batfamily and/or Young Avengers members also highly encouraged. Dick as the irritatingly charming grad student! Billy and Teddy as the annoying freshmen Babs finds making out in the stacks! Go crazy :D )
> 
> 7:Exobiology AU (the search for and study of extraterrestrial life) (and how have I never written any DickBabs before? Congratulations, you’ve the first person ever to ask me to write one of the few ships the Boy gets genuinely worked up about.)
> 
> I’m saving crossover-y university library AU for later, though. Has it ever come up that you’re a precious, unending glorious delight?

Babs groans. “Dick.  _Dick!_  What are you doing?”

Dick grins at her from halfway up the beam. “I found goo!”

“What?”

“Up in the rafters. There’s goo. I’m collecting it.” He scrambles up onto a crossbeam, checks to make sure it’s sturdy, and then hangs down from it by his knees so he can see Babs more clearly. “Then you can study it for traces of extraterrestrial material.”

“ _Why?_  Dick, why are you collecting the goo at all? How does that have  _anything_ to do with grave robbing?”

“It has  _everything_  to do with the grave robbing. Remember? The farmer also mentioned that he’d lost a couple of sheep and chickens recently, and that one of the cats was gone.  _He_  thinks it’s coyotes. I think they’re connected.” Now he’s crouching on the crossbeam, scraping something into a plastic container by the lid.

There’s a crunch behind them as one of the farmhands comes into the empty barn and stops next to Babs’ chair. “What’s he doing?”

Babs sighs. “My partner has some unorthodox investigative methods. They’re time consuming, but I try to humor him.”

From the rafters Dick shouts, “Aliens, Babs! Aliens! I know what I’m talking about!”


	65. Ladies Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eazzy–pink also asked for TimKon, #3: Ballet, tap, interpretive, modern, some kind of dance AU (professional dance, dance classes, high school dances, burlesque or stripper AUs, anything as long as dance is involved somehow), and specifically requested strippers because we all love nudity! ^_^

The club is called Dark Nights (technically Dark Nights Adult Lounge and Bar), which isn’t super creative. Or super accurate, since most of the strippers are perky blondes and redheads. Not that they’re not good dancers, they're  _excellent,_  but it’s not a very dark-night look. Unless maybe the proprietor was going for “knights” with a “k,” but…ok, who knows.

All Kon wants is a beer and some onion rings. Maybe a burger. It was a long day at the gym, he had to deal with some of his most  _frustrating_  clients, and not having to cook would be nice. And at least at Dark Nights the food is edible and there’s something decent to look at that’s not a football game. He stops at a grocery store ATM to get out fifty bucks, has the customer service counter break thirty of it into ones, and heads over.

He gets in, gets his beer, decides on chicken fingers instead of a burger, and settles back to enjoy the show.

Something seems…different about tonight.

Like, normally most of the dancers are women. Maybe one or two men, Dark Nights is sort of egalitarian. And most of the customers are men too. Obviously.

There’s a  _lot_  of women in here at the tables tonight. They seem excited. There’s a lull on the stages; they’re probably getting ready for a big act.

He normally tunes out the DJ, but he’s puzzled enough now that he starts paying attention, and he catches an important phrase.

“Ladies Night”

Well…well, shit. So no women on stage tonight.

He considers scarfing down his food and heading out, but it’s too late, because the music’s starting and the DJ’s crowing something about “the young bucks, the fine peacocks of Dark Nights,” and the women in the audience are howling as–

“On the center stage, the prettiest star of Ladies Night,  _Nightwing!_ ”

Holy  _shit._

“On the left-hand stage, a  _beast_  of a man,  _Red Hood!_ ”

Are these guys for  _real?_

Like, Kon knows from being in good shape, he’s a  _personal trainer_ , for god’s sake, but these guys,  _these guys,_  they’re just  _way_  too–

“And on the right-hand stage, our newest addition,  _Robin!_ ” _  
_

Kon drops a half-eaten chicken finger into his little cup of mustard, staring wide-eyed.

He doesn’t even hear the music.

Apparently this Ladies Night is superhero themed, because all three of the dancers have come out in costumes, with masks, and it’s embarrassing how hot Kon finds that, especially given that he’s not into dudes. He doesn’t think he’s into dudes?

He thinks, looking up at “Robin” on the right-hand stage,  _Maybe I’m into dudes._ And “Robin” starts popping open the buttons on his high collar and Kon scarfs his food anyway, wipes his hands as clean as possible (with help from the bottle of sanitizer he keeps in his pocket), and then hurries over to the edge of the stage and loses thirty dollars.

Robin blows him a kiss.

He's  _not_  going to get a crush on a stripper. Not after that other time, that was embarrassing.

When he asks the bouncer if Robin performs  _every_  Ladies Night, it’s…it’s purely for information.


	66. Alien Lifeforms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Nohmmy & BillyTeddy, 7.
> 
> 7:Exobiology AU (the search for and study of extraterrestrial life)

Dorrek leans forward, fascinated. “ _This_  is what you found?”

“Their ship is nearby.” Noh-Varr is frowning. Clearly he doesn’t approve of the prince’s interest. “I’ve disabled it temporarily, until we can determine their intent.”

“They’re so  _little._  Are they sleeping, or did you tranquilize them?” The prince reaches out with one hand. His claw catches a dark curl, the alien murmurs something and shifts on the ground, and he jolts back. “And what  _are_  they? They look  _sort of_  like Kree, but they're  _not._ ”

“They’re asleep, although not by their own design. As far as I can tell, they startled a nesting  _ar'sl_  and it sprayed them.” Noh-Varr pauses. “And…they’re humans.”

“ _What?_  I thought humans were a  _myth._  I thought Father made them up just to scare me.”

“No, they’re quite real, although the empire does typically avoid their planet.”

“What do you suppose the different hair colors mean? Is it sexual dimorphism, do you think? I don’t know how human breeding works.” Now Dorrek’s crouched down by the sleeping aliens, entirely engrossed in studying them. “They look the same otherwise. I wonder if they’re from the same litter.”

“I…I don't  _know._ ” The statement clearly irritates Noh-Varr. He  _hates_  not knowing things.

“See, this one has hair like yours. It’s sort of cute.  _They’re_  sort of cute. Do you think Father would let me keep them for study?” Dorrek reaches for the dark-haired one.

Noh-Varr grabs his wrist. “Be  _careful,_  your highness. I’m told humans can have strange powers. And they’re apparently damnably hard to subdue, powers or no.”

Dorrek ponders that for a moment, and then nods and scoops the dark-haired human up in his arms. “Then I  _definitely_  want to learn more about them. Here, Noh-Varr, carry the other one. If they’re such a great threat, then we need to know more about them. And who knows, maybe they're  _not_  threats.”

“What do you want to do with them if they’re  _not_  threats?” Noh-Varr picks up the other human, adjusts his grip slightly, and scowls down at its sleeping face. “You’ve never expressed any desire for pets before.”

“Pets? No! New friends! Come on, Noh-Varr. Let’s hurry back to the palace before they wake up.”


	67. There Must Be Poison In Those Fingertips Of Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zethsaire asked: Johnny/Daken number 3!!
> 
> 3: Dance AU

There’s a new face in the studio when Johnny gets in for practice. He’s at the barre on the other side of the otherwise empty room, in the process of sliding into a graceful split as Johnny starts to stretch. He doesn’t look up–focusing, obviously, but Johnny sees a flicker of a smile as he moves into an identical split.

They warm up in silence while the other dancers file in, silently matching stretches in a kind of terpsichorean Dueling Banjos. The other dancers murmur to each other, all glancing at the newcomer as they go through their own preferred routines, but don’t interrupt either. That would be rude.

Finally Emma gets in, and everyone lines up at the front of the room. Johnny takes his place in the center of the first row, as usual, and the new dancer stands next to him.

“First position!”

They snap to attention like the slim soldiers of a fantasy army, every foot perfectly placed.

“Gentlemen.” Emma nods to them. “I’d like to introduce you to an…unexpected new addition to our troupe.” The French accent she affects is slipping a bit; she must be annoyed. “Akihiro, step forward.”

The newcomer steps forward and bows with animal elegance. His hair, Johnny can see, is long and up in a tight bun, the sides of his head shaved. “Good morning.”

“This is Akihiro Howlett. He was recommended to me by an old and respected acquaintance as an addition for Pop En Pointe.” The way Emma’s lip curls when she says  _acquaintance,_  what she must really mean is  _bitter enemy._  “In any case, the only way you truly get to know a dancer is to see him dance. Let’s begin!”

Akihiro moves with shocking grace–and speed–even for a professional ballet dancer. He walks  _en pointe_  as if he’s incapable of feeling pain. He can leap higher than anyone but Johnny. And he doesn’t work well with others.

By the time three hours have passed, everyone pretty much hates him. Which isn’t especially odd, they are all professional dancers, but the way everyone’s hating the new guy is a little more intense.

They break to eat their sparse lunches.

Akihiro sits down next to Johnny, who nods to him, and murmurs, “You know, I don’t think they like me very much.”

Johnny shrugs. “You took us by surprise. I’m Johnny Storm.”

“Akihiro. So is Storm  _really_  your last name, or is it a stage name?”

“Well, it’s on my birth certificate, so really you’d have to ask my parents. Are you seriously wearing a mohawk in a bun?”

“I like to think I have a unique sense of personal style.”

Johnny fights to keep from smiling. Akihiro actually seems like a pretty decent guy, although he looks at everything sort of like he wants to eat it. “Welcome to the troupe.”

After lunch Emma puts them in groups and pairs to work on choreography that’s only half-finished anyway. Johnny and Akihiro get matched up, and she looks them over and says, “Troublemaker. Johnny, run him through it, you know what’s supposed to be happening.”

They talk through the moves. Emma hits the stereo.

Johnny spins rapidly, reaches for Akihiro’s hand–and the effect is electric.

Perfection that’s eerie in isolation is something else close at hand, something _other._  Akihiro moves like an animal, and halfway through they break choreography and they’ve hit some freeform vein that has them whirling around each other until Emma turns off the music and says, “What the hell was that? Stay on  _track,_  gentlemen!”

Johnny looks up. He’s–did they seriously break into  _ballroom?_  Is Akihiro  _dipping_ him? His head is perilously close to the floor. They stand up, and Johnny sees the other dancers staring at them with sick envy.

Emma raises an eyebrow at Akihiro.

He smirks at her.

Shit, this guy is bad news.

And shit. From the way his skin’s still humming…Johnny’s definitely hooked.


	68. Not Charity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zethsaire asked: Also Jay/Tim 28 and Nohmmy 32, if you're up to all that. XD
> 
> 28: Speed dating after being single for a while AU

“Speed dating, huh, Timmy?”

Tim looks up with a jolt. “Jason? What are  _you_  doing here?” A wary pause. “…you aren’t here to get in a fight with me, are you? You can’t be here for the speed-dating.”

“I saw you through the window. Figured I’d come in to mock.”

“Steph talked me into it.” Tim looks Jason up and down. Despite his cocky grin, the other man looks haggard. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his skin has the pale sheen of someone who hasn’t slept much lately. “You look like hell.”

Jason snorts. “No way to talk to an old pal, is it?”

“We’re not pals. When was the last time you ate? Or got more than an hour’s sleep?”

A pause. “…what’s today?”

That settles it. Tim stands up. “I’m taking you home.”

Jason grins crookedly. “Does this mean I win the speed dating?”

“No, it means that you’re a mess and I’m a sucker.” Tim tugs on his arm. “Up or I’ll drag you.”

“You couldn’t if you wanted to, Timmy.” Jason gets to his feet and stumbles. “I meant to do that.”

“Of course you did. Come on, let’s go home.”


	69. What's Your Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zethsaire also asked for Nohmmy, 32: Trans, genderqueer, nonbinary interpretations AU

She stares at the line of little tubes laid out on the bathroom counter and scowls. “Kate, your selection of mascara is intimidating!”

“Just  _pick_  one, seriously.”

“What is this stuff supposed to  _mean?_  I don’t know how to interpret half of the terms on these things.”

“Oh, for–use the Urban Decay Supercurl. You’ve basically got your mom’s eyelashes, that’ll make them look even more like hers.”

It takes a moment for her to find the right one, and then–“Wait, you mean Wanda, right? You really think so?”

Kate leans in the bathroom door, still toweling her hair dry, and grins in the mirror. “You’re the spitting image, Tommy. Here, do you know how to put it on?”

But Tommy’s already brushing mascara onto her eyelashes. She blinks. “Wow. This is sort of an intense effect.” And she blinks again, turning her head left and right. The hoops in her ears swing gently, bumping her cheeks. Then she twists, to get a side view, and her nose wrinkles. “I have to say, I  _hate_  this push-up bra. Like…it’s nice to  _have_  boobs? The forms are nice. But this thing itches like  _crazy._ ”

“That’s why I wear a sports bra most of the time, but I don’t think that’d help you out much here.” Kate frowns, grabs Tommy’s chin in one hand and an eyeliner pencil in the other, and leans forward for a quick couple of strokes. “ _There_  we go…that’s a  _really_  nice lipstick on you, by the way, where’d you get it?”

Tommy glances away, blushing. “Noh-Varr bought it for me.”

“ _Noh_  bought you  _lipstick?_ ”

“Well, I was  _trying_  to explain the…the…” she waves her hand helplessly in front of her body, “the gender stuff,” and the waving transitions seamlessly into smoothing down her skirt, “and then we were out shopping and I was in guy mode because I didn’t feel like asking for trouble and he saw me looking at it in Sephora. So he bought it for me.”

“That's  _adorable._  He never bought  _me_  lipstick. Do you have shoes?”

“Yeah.” Tommy turns to the full-length mirror on the wall and bites her lip. “Kate…”

“Yeah?”

“This is…this is the most  _girl_  I’ve ever been with Noh-Varr.”

“Wasn’t that the point of the whole triple-date thing? Backup for you so you can do your girl thing?”

“…but what if he doesn’t like it?”

Kate squeezes Tommy’s shoulder. “He’ll love you. He thinks you’re great anyway. If this makes him  _not_  think you’re great…well, we can always have Teddy throw him into the sun.”

–

Across the building, Billy is sitting in front of a mirror and swearing at his hair gel, and Noh-Varr is pacing. “What if I say something wrong? I’m going to offend her. I wouldn’t like for her to be offended.”

“ _Noh-Varr._  Calm  _down._ ” Teddy catches his arm, forcing the Kree to stop walking back and forth. “You’re not going to offend her. The fact that you’re worried is a good sign. Right, Billy? David?”

Billy bites off another curse, and then his fingers spark blue and suddenly his hair is  _perfect._  “Right, yeah.”

David nods, tying his shoes with an abstracted expression on his face. “Right. Still trying to get over the fact that I’m going on a friend-date with Kate.”

“If I say something that makes her angry I’m going to have to immolate myself. Teddy, please make sure that my remains are disposed of in an appropriately Kree manner.”

“Will you just  _sit down._  Nobody's  _dying_  tonight. I mean, unless aliens attack the restaurant or something.”

David checks his watch. “We should get down to the door, meet up with the girls.”

–

When they get to the door, only Kate is waiting for them. She winks and mouths,  _“She wanted to make an entrance.”_

They all arrange themselves along the opposite wall.

“Gentlemen, may I present our guest of honor for the evening.”

Tommy steps out of the next room.

There’s a moment of silence where her cheeks flush red, and she looks ready to bolt–and knowing her, if she bolts she’ll end up in Paris or something–and then the four guys all applaud. Or… _three_  of the guys applaud. Noh-Varr is busy staring at her, looking poleaxed.

She catches his look and grins wickedly. “You like?”

He swallows hard. “You look extremely attractive, Tommy.”

There’s a pause, and then she says, “Thanks, Noh. But also no.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Not Tommy.”

David grins. “You figure out a name you like?”

She scratches the back of her head, blushing again. “Well, I ran into Granddad the other day.”

Teddy looks confused. Kate looks startled. Billy says, “Wait,  _our_  granddad? Like…Magneto?”

“Yeah.”

“And were you…” Billy gestures vaguely.

“He sort of gave me a funny look, but then once I explained a little he just said he’d always wanted a granddaughter and gave me a hug. And I figured out a name.”

Noh-Varr nods slowly. “I feel like I should know the name of my date, if you don’t mind.”

She grins. “Erika.”

There’s another round of applause as Noh-Varr kisses Erika on the cheek and offers her his arm. “Well. Erika. I think our taxi should be here any minute now.”


	70. The Body Of Knowledge/The Knowledge Of Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kaszaslut asked: Laura 32
> 
> 32:Trans, genderqueer, nonbinary interpretations AU
> 
> Pronouns used for Laura/Lore are gender-neutral, ne/nem/nir/nirs/nemself

> ****_lore, noun  
> _ 1.the body of knowledge, especially of a traditional, anecdotal, or popular nature, on a particular subject: the lore of herbs.  
> 2.learning, knowledge, or erudition.  
> 3.Archaic: a.the process or act of teaching; instruction; b.something that is taught; lesson. ([x](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/lore?s=t))

Eyes open.  _Who am I today?_

_I’m me._

_Who am I?_

_I’m whoever I decide to be._

Lore gets out of bed and stares at nir closet. There’s a lot of clothing in it; Jubilee  _does_  like to go shopping at least once a week, and she loves to have company. Lore frequently gets dragged along just because ne’s too polite to protest, and too curious to really turn down the opportunity. Besides, Jubilee likes to buy clothing for nem too, and doesn’t care which section of the store Lore wants to shop in, so it’s all ok.

Lore tugs on a binder, a t-shirt over that, cargo pants, nir sneakers with the inserts that change nir gait, and looks in the mirror. Decides, a little  _too_  boyish. So ne grabs nir little makeup box and paints on eyeliner and lipgloss, uses mascara to make nir eyes massive and feminine. The bobbed hair can go either way; all it needs is combing.

“I,” Lore says to the mirror, “am not required to be anyone but myself today.”

This is what Lore says every day. Sometimes ne needs a reminder.

Lore didn’t want to abandon the name Laura completely. After all, being  _Laura_ meant not being  _X-23_ , meant being a  _person_  instead of a  _weapon._  But, ne learned eventually,  _part_  of being a person instead of a weapon was getting to be more than one thing at once–names aren’t like souls, you’re allowed to have more than one. And when the name Laura stopped fitting, when ne found  _Lore_ inside nirself, it didn’t go away for good.

Ne heads down to breakfast.

Jubilee’s already up? Jubilee’s up  _early,_  which makes sense when she looks up from the high chair she’s facing and says, “Little jerk kept me awake  _all night._ DIdn’t you?  _Didn’t_  you? Who’s my little jerk?”

Shogo giggles, dribbling oatmeal all over his chin, and yells,  _“Jerk!”_

Lore kisses Jubilee on the cheek. “Is there breakfast for adults too?”

“Logan’s going to make waffles. He’s having a guilty day. He went to find eggs.”

“I like waffles.”

“You like  _food._  You look cute today.”

Lore smiles. “I  _feel_  cute today.”

“See? That’s good. You look cute, you feel cute, Logan’s making waffles, Shogo’s a tiny jerk–”

“Jerk!” Shogo laughs merrily. “Jerkjerkjerk!”

“Eat your oatmeal, sweetie–I’m awesome as always, all’s right with the world.”

–

There’s a mission call later, and when they’re in the middle of taking out the pocket of U-Men Northstar discovered, one of the suited men levels a gun at Lore and says, “What are  _you_  supposed to be? You a boy or a girl?”

Lore frowns thoughtfully and nods. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“…wait,  _what?_ ”

Then ne breaks his nose.

It’s very satisfying.


	71. Titans At The Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Tim/Kon 1 & Noh/Tommy 14
> 
> 1:All night diner at two in the morning AU

Tim notices the big guy because the big guy  _grabs_  him.

At first he’s ready to fight. He comes up fists at the ready, until he realizes that the big guy is smiling. “You were about to fall asleep in your omelette. Figured I’d save your nice suit the dry-cleaning.”

“I…” Tim blinks. “…my what?”

The big guy peers at him. “Do you actually know where you are?”

“I’m…” he looks around. “I’m in a diner. Apparently. How late was I  _at_  the office?”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s two in the morning, I got here half an hour ago, and you were here already when I sat down. I’m Conner Kent.” The big guy holds out a hand.

“Tim Drake.”

Conner starts to shake his hand and then freezes. “…please tell me you’re a different Tim Drake. Like. Not  _the_  Tim Drake.”

“I apparently almost fell asleep face-first in an omelette just now, you tell  _me_ which Tim Drake I’m supposed to be.”

“Adoptive son of Bruce Wayne? Future CEO of Wayne Enterprises?”

“Oh. Oh, right.” Tim blinks groggily. “I  _am_  that Tim Drake.” Then, slowly, the words Conner’s been saying filter through his brain. “…so are you actually Conner Kent the athlete? The Metropolis Kid?”

“Oh my god, I hate that nickname.”

“This is some sort of magic diner, isn’t it.”

Conner shrugs. “I don’t know about magic, but this pie is pretty good. You should…you should probably eat some of your food. Like, have some homefries or something before you pass out again.”

Tim makes it through half his plate before starting to fall asleep again.

When he jolts upright, Conner peers at him in concern. “Look, man, I hope you didn’t drive here, because you’re definitely not doing anymore driving tonight.”

“I’m…I’m ok, I’m awake…”

“No, you’re really not.” He loops an arm around Tim’s shoulders, hoists him to his feet, and hands the waitress a fifty. “Come on, we’re getting a taxi.”

“…we?”

“If I let you go home by yourself like this you’ll get mugged. What’s your address?”


	72. Do It For The Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonamouse also asked for Nohmmy, 14:Kissing booth AU

“So you volunteered your boyfriend to run a kissing booth.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” Kate shrugs. “It’s for the Boys and Girls club. Noh likes kids.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “A  _kissing_  booth, though.”

“He also likes kissing.  _I_  wasn’t going to do it, do you know how many creeps would turn up?” Before he can answer, she says, “A  _lot._  There would be a  _lot_  of creeps.” Then she shoves his shoulder, lightly. “Go get in line.”

“Wait wait wait.  _What?_  Get in line for  _what?_  To  _kiss_  your  _boyfriend?_ ”

“ _Ex-_ boyfriend. It’s only two dollars. And it’s for a good cause.”

Tommy turns bright red. “It’s the  _principle_  of the thing!”

She just sort of gives him a look, so he digs two dollars out of his pocket and gets in line anyway.

When he gets to the  _head_  of the line, Noh-Varr looks up at him in surprise. “Tommy,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see  _you._ ”

“Yeah, well.” Tommy shuffles his feet and hands over two dollars. “It’s for a good cause.”

They kiss. It’s a very chaste little peck. Then Noh thanks Tommy for donating, and Tommy hurries off to get some fried dough and ride the tilt-a-whirl and maybe feel a little less gay.

Kate tracks him down when he’s getting in line for the kissing booth the second time. She’s got Billy and Teddy with her. Teddy looks at the line, at what it’s for, and at Tommy’s red face, and his eyebrow rises. “Kissing booth?”

“Shut up.”

He gets to the head of the line. Noh-Varr blinks. “You’re here again.”

“I’m feeling charitable, ok?” He hands over two dollars.

They kiss. It’s…their lips touch. There’s no tongue. Tommy leaves very quickly.

After a run around the midway–in which he accumulates several stuffed animals and an ice cream bar that he scarfs just fast enough to keep it from melting but not so fast that he gets brain freeze–he gets back in line.

A hand taps him on the shoulder. It’s Kate. She’s by herself again. She smirks at him. “Kissing my ex-boyfriend again?”

Tommy says, helplessly, “It’s for the  _kids._ ”

Noh-Varr doesn’t even  _greet_  him this time when he gets to the head of the line.

Also, there's  _definitely_  tongue.


	73. Recommended Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another of tandlerovmusic’s many prompts. ^_^ He also asked for Simon/Loki, 24:Queer bar/bookstore/advocacy group/coffee shop/setting of your choice AU
> 
> I actually went with something that’s also partially an occult store (and sex shop), because if I owned a business, a combined queer bookshop and Acme Pagan Supply with sex toys in the back is exactly what I’d want to run.

The door doesn’t jingle when they walk in. It  _barks,_  like a fox, which makes Tommy pretty much leap out of his skin. “The  _shit?_ ”

“Welcome to Chaos and Discord,” says the man behind the counter. “Sorry about the door; I keep  _trying_  to tell the boss we should go with something a little more conventional for an alert noise, but he just  _won’t_  listen to me. You kids been here before?” He doesn’t exactly  _look_  like he should be working at an occult shop—tons of hoops in his ears, a briefly visible tongue stud, multicolored hair, and arms crawling with knotwork tattoos.

Billy shakes his head. “No. No, we’re just visiting the area, we thought the store looked cool.”

"Always nice to hear! Stage magic’s on the left side of the store, real magic’s on the right, back wall is the gay stuff,” with a cheerful laugh, “and the other room’s eighteen-plus, if you want to poke around in there I need to see some ID.”

Tommy has his driver’s license out immediately, but Kate’s only a little bit slower. Cassie glances towards the curtained back room and sighs. “Three more months.”

“You’ll survive, short stuff.” Kate kisses her on the temple, gets her ID checked, and then she and Tommy disappear through the curtain. After a speculative look, America follows them.

Noh-Varr heads straight for the stage magic supplies, and David goes with him, making a beeline for a table covered in decks of cards. Cassie goes to browse through “the gay stuff”—apparently a fairly extensive selection of books on LGBTQIA+ topics. Teddy glances around, spots a comics section two bookcases down from where Cassie’s looking, and lights up. “I  _have_  to see what kind of comics this place has. Coming with, babe?”

“In a minute.” Billy’s eyes are fixed on the part of the store the clerk pointed out as “real magic.” “I want to go look at the magic books, first.”

“Well, it’s a small store. Not like we can get lost.” Teddy kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll be over there once you’re done.”

Billy kisses him back absently and wanders into the “real magic” section as if in a dream.

He looks through the selection of Tarot decks, peers at his reflection in a black scrying mirror, and is looking with some puzzlement at the books on the shelf labeled “Q/K/Cab(b)ala(h)” when a soft voice behind him says, “Are you looking for magic or religion?”

He jumps and turns. The store clerk is standing at his elbow, smiling. “Uh…both? Mostly I’m more interested in the magic side of things, but my mom got a little worried about the whole Wicca thing and she wanted me to talk to our rabbi and he said he thought I should read a little about the Kabbala. I don’t know what’s a good book on the subject, I haven’t had much chance to research it yet.”

The clerk reaches past him, plucks a book off the shelf, and puts it in Billy’s hands. “Try this one.  _God Is A Verb._  It’s a solid intro, by a rabbi. You can talk about it with your rabbi afterward, if you like. I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Billy.” Billy shakes hands with him, grinning. “Thanks for the rec.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Anything else you were looking for?”

Simon helps him pick out a couple of other books, and he’s about to go bother Teddy and check out what a comics shelf in the gay stuff section entails (Apollo and Midnighter, maybe? Yaoi manga?) when an accented voice nearby drawls, “Beloved, you didn’t tell me we had customers.”

Simon raises an eyebrow. “ _Hey_  there, hot stuff. I didn’t  _tell_  you because we’re in the middle of our regular hours. Customers should be an assumption.”

Billy looks up. Then he looks up some more, because it takes extra looking to get to the new guy’s face. Which is  _definitely_  handsome, in sort of an austere way. ”Uh…hi?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Billy, this is my…husband, Loki. He owns the store. Loki, Billy’s interested in reading about modern magical practice, you have any books to recommend that I might’ve missed?”

Loki looks Billy up and down, says, “Read  _Helrunar_  and then come back here if you have questions,” kisses Simon, and then stalks away.

“Did…did I make him angry?”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Simon grins. “He’s always like that. If he gives you a book recommendation it means he likes you.”


	74. The Singles Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Nohmmy 12 or 16 please
> 
> 12: Indie bookstore, record store, comic shop, etc. AU

The white-haired guy comes in every day. Not an exaggeration. Every single day, and he always looks at something different. You could set your watch by it.

Tommy likes to think of himself as the curator of the store’s small but respectable metal selection. For the most part he’s not really into music, but you can never have enough metal records. He also handles the t-shirt orders and the little shelf of music non-fiction–biographies, history books, and so on. Everything else, including the sheet music, gets taken care of by Billy and Teddy.

It’s Wednesday, and the guy with white hair shows up at three-thirty like clockwork–and heads over to metal.

Tommy’s been waiting for this. Time to show off.

He heads over to where the guy’s flipping curiously through a crate of vinyl LPs and says, “Trying to find anything special?”

The guy looks up, surprised. His eyes are a piercing blue. “Not really.” He’s got a faint accent, just barely enough to be noticeable. “I try to have a little of everything. Why?”

“Well, I do all the ordering for this section. Need to make sure I’m up to  _snuff._ You a student?”

“Not officially, no. What do you recommend?”

He buys every single one of Tommy’s recommendations, which is a hell of a surprise. No one ever does that.

The next day, at three-thirty, he shows up as usual–and heads over to metal again. Which is unusual. He never hits the same section twice.

Tommy heads over with a grin. “Finally found something you want more of?”

The guy meets his eyes and says, “Yes.” And then, “I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks now, metal was the first thing that worked.”

“Well, if you liked what you got yesterday then you should definitely try wait what?”

“Noh-Varr. Would you like to get coffee with me? We can talk about music. Or other things, if you prefer.”

Tommy’s so poleaxed, he just says, “Yeah, sure.”


	75. Kiss Me For No Other Reason Than To Give Your Eyes A Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @ladynara asked for Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, 14: Kissing booth AU

Before Frank has the chance to say anything, Matt lifts his head and says, “You never struck me as the type to go to kissing booths. Or the state fair, for that matter.”

“Not normally,” says Frank in a low rumble. “But then again you don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d take money for kisses. Seems like most people get ‘em from you for free.”

“It’s a fundraiser.”

“For what?”

“NYPD widows and orphans. Jen Walters has a booth too, across the fair.”

Frank hands him a bill in a brush of fingers, and Matt feels the ink proclaiming ‘one hundred dollars.’ “Here. For…for the kids.”

Matt smiles. “Do you want your kiss? Kisses, I should say, since you’ve paid for fifty.”

Chapped lips, tasting faintly of cheap coffee and blood. Then Frank’s forehead presses to his, briefly, for a murmur of, “You can owe me the others, choirboy. I know you’re good for it.”


	76. Humans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geoboy-world asked: If its not to late, Noh/Tommy/Merlin 16
> 
> The ever-popular Masquerade-less AU!

Tommy rakes his fingers through Merlin’s bristling ruff and says, “Don’t get your pinfeathers in a bunch. Nothing bad happened, we saved the day, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know.” Merlin nods rapidly–but he doesn’t stop quivering, not until Noh-Varr claps a hand over his eyes, blocking his view completely. “Ooohhhh shit, thanks. I needed that.” He leans against Noh’s side, pressing his face into the other man’s palm, and Tommy leans into  _his_  side and burrows under one of his wings.

Tommy laughs, his laughter metamorphosing for a moment into a cheetah snarl. Spots grow and disappear on the sides of his face. “We just need to get you a hood, man. You can put it on whenever you feel like freaking out.”

“I always feel like freaking out.”

“…yeah, true, I suppose you can’t just be blind all day. I wish the moon would just come up, I feel itchy. I need to  _run._ ”

Noh-Varr makes an amused snorting noise.  _“Humans.”_

“Says the cockroach man from outer space. Also,  _neither_  of us is human.”

“ _I’m_  familiar enough with my own body chemistry to keep myself on an even keel. And anyway, this planet and its multiverse analogues have approximately fifty sapient species of humanoid life, how am I supposed to keep you all straight? You’re all humans to me, whether or not you turn into other things as dictated by the lunar cycle or drink blood or…or whatever it is Merlin does.”

Merlin mutters, “Racist,” and then lets out a dove-like purring noise. “You  _know_ I’m a merlin. It’s not just a name, it’s a descriptor.”

“This is the strangest planet I’ve ever been to. And that includes the one that was all ducks.”

Tommy laugh-snarls again, his eyes slowly shading from green to gold as the moon rises. “Welcome to Earth. Accept no substitutes.”

“I just told you that there’s a wide  _variety_  of substitutes.”

“But this is the only real one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It also occurs to me that I’ve never actually provided any[information about merlins](http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/merlin/id) before. Merlin in a supernatural AU would obviously be a bird-man, roughly based on a merlin hawk but ginger._
> 
> _Merlins look like this:_
> 
> _ _
> 
> _I think they’re really cute._


	77. Orange Creamsicle, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geoboy-world asked: If it's not too much to ask, could you do a continuation on the Orange Creamsicle story?
> 
> Sure, of course! First part is [here.](http://dangerouscommiesubversive.tumblr.com/post/87528693842/merlin-bart-4-please)
> 
> And a note: if I’m doing a prompt meme, it’s always ok to ask me to continue something I started writing for a different prompt meme. For that matter it’s pretty much ok to ask for more of anything.

Merlin blinks as his coffee’s put into his hand. “I…I didn’t even order yet.”\

“I know!” Bart grins. “But you always get the same thing. Orange creamsicle. So I started making it when I saw you coming in.”

“Wow, really? Thanks!”

“It’s. Uh. On the house.” A blush starts to creep up around the edges of Bart’s face. “So what’s your name?”

“Merlin.” He takes a sip of his drink and closes his eyes for a moment in pleasure. “What’s yours? I mean, I can’t just call you Coffee Guy. Or. I mean. I can if you want me to?”

“Bart. Merlin like the wizard?”

“Like the hawk. But also yeah, kind of.”

Bart nods, feeling very awkward as Merlin takes another sip of his coffee, and then blurts out, “So do you really have a crush on Stephanie?”

Merlin’s nose turns bright red. His  _nose._  Like, that’s the first part of him that blushes. It’s so cute that Bart almost has a heart attack. “Um.” He glances over at where Stephanie’s taking orders. “Kind of?”

It’s hard for Bart to keep his shoulders from slumping.

“I mean. I sort of have a crush on  _everyone_  who works here. Do you guys, like, recruit through a modeling agency that specializes in really nice people or something? My mom–well, one of my moms–just says I’m really affectionate but honestly there are so many hot people in the world that sometimes I feel like I might pass out. Um. I’m embarrassing, I’ll stop talking now.”

They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then Bart blurts out, “So do you want to go see the new Godzilla movie with me tomorrow night?”

Merlin makes a choking noise. Bart’s afraid that he’s offended, until he realizes that the redhead just swallowed some of his coffee wrong. He coughs, eyes watering, and says, “What, really?”

“Yeah. It’s, um, it’s the last night it’s going to be playing at the good theater. Do you want to go with me?”

“I love Godzilla.”

“…is that a yes?”

Merlin grabs Bart’s wrist and says, seriously, “I  _love_  Godzilla. Let’s go see Godzilla. When do I meet you? Where do you want to meet?”


	78. The Human's Not For Eating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> minister-of-silly-walks sent me several prompts, and the first of them that I’m doing is a continuation of the Nohmmy and BillyTeddy exobiology AU! (The first of two continuations, specifically, I have another request for it after this.)

Bill Maximoff wakes up and winces, rubbing at his lower back. “Tom, did I fall asleep in the cockpit again? I definitely had some kind of fucked-up dream about us landing on a planet and getting attacked by a–”

This definitely isn’t the cockpit.

It’s definitely not their  _ship._

He sits up slowly, and then finds out that in fact he's  _not_  sitting up slowly, because he’s been restrained. On an exam table? That’s not good. Wrists and ankles tied down, same with his waist. His head’s free, though, and that’s…helpful. Sort of. Maybe. Hopefully.

He lifts his head, sees a large green alien with long claws and sizeable fangs–and a thatch of inexplicably blond hair–grinning at him, and yells loud enough to, as his mother would put it, wake the peaceful dead.

Tom, on another exam table a few feet away, jackknifes awake with a shout of his own, warping the metal of the table with his startled flailing, and the green alien holds up both massively clawed hands and says something in a guttural language that sounds unbearably menacing. He reaches for Bill, who tries as best he can to scramble backwards when he can’t actually move around at all, and Tom shouts, “Don’t you fucking touch him! Bill,  _what the fuck is that?_ ”

BIll stares up at the alien, who’s baring all of its teeth at him in a way that definitely  _feels_  very menacing. It keeps reaching for him, but instead of grabbing him or clawing him open or anything one could  _reasonably_  expect a hostile alien to do, it…pats him on the shoulder. Says something else in its guttural, throat-popping language.

And then morphs, full-bodied, from a muscular green troll-thing into a handsome young man with a regal bearing. The fangs, and the long pointed ears, are still present. The claws are still there, although smaller. But otherwise he looks significantly more human. His clothes have also remained the same; he’s wearing some kind of military uniform, dotted here and there with gleaming jewels, and there’s what appears to be a laser pistol holstered at his hip.

Tom says, “Holy shit, what the  _fuck?_ ”

Bill stares. “Tom…Tom, I think our ship went off course.”

The alien speaks again, still in the guttural language, and then watches to gauge their reaction.

“I don’t think we’re in the Horsehead Nebula,” Bill says to his brother. “I think we’re in the Kree-Skrull Empire. I think that’s a Skrull.”

Tom’s eyes go wide. “I thought Skrulls were a  _myth!_  I thought Granddad made them up to freak us out!” _  
_

At the sound of the word “Skrull,” the alien nods enthusiastically, and Bill frowns. He points to it as best he can with his hand restrained. “You’re a Skrull?”

The alien nods again, encouragingly, and taps its–his?–chest with one clawed hand. “Skrull,” he says. Then he gestures around himself. “[incomprehensible guttural noises]…Skrullos.”

Bill nods in response, trying to ignore the sensation of all the blood draining out of his face. “Tom, we’re on Skrullos.”

“Yeah, I. I guessed that.”

“We’re going to get eaten by Skrulls.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

The alien moves towards Bill, who cringes back, and–unhinges the cuff holding down his left hand.

Bill stares at the open cuff, swallows hard, and then lifts his hand and points to himself. “William Maximoff.” Then points to his brother. “Thomas Maximoff.”

The alien nods and repeats the pointing. “W'llum Maks'mov. Toms Maks'mov.”

He then starts to point to himself, but before he can say anything–presumably he was going to say his own name–the door of the room opens, and another person walks in. This one looks almost  _entirely_  human, but for the fact that he’s too young to have hair so white and his eyes are a shade of blue more commonly seen in flowers than the human iris.

The new alien looks at Bill and Tom, then at the Skrull, and then very intently at Bill’s free hand and the open cuff next to it.

Then he buries his face in his hands in a gesture that Bill knows all too well. Bill almost laughs.

The Skrull looks over at the newcomer and says something in a  _different_ language, this one breathy and full of liquids. The newcomer replies, and–

“Are they  _arguing?_ ”

“Broiling or grilling, probably,” Tom says grimly. “They’re just trying to think of how to cook us. I think I can vibrate through these restraints while they’re occupied.”

“Go for it. I can get us back to the ship if you can get us out of the restraints.”

Tom starts to blur.

Suddenly the newcomer, the white-haired alien, is on top of him, one hand around his throat, the other one pressing a pistol to his forehead. He snarls something in the liquid language–probably something along the lines of, “No funny business or you’re dead.”

Tom says, weakly, “Look, Bill, can you do some kind of translation spell thing? Do you know how to do those?”

Bill gulps, shuts his eyes, and tries to whisper as quietly as possible,  _“Universaltranslatoruniversaltranslatoruniversaltranslator.”_

All four of them glow blue for a brief moment.

The white-haired alien lets out an angry hiss and says–in words that are suddenly entirely comprehensible–“What the fucking hell was that?”

The Skrull says, “Noh-Varr, will you  _calm down?_ ”

Bill blinks. “That worked better than I was expecting.”

The white-haired alien–apparently Noh-Varr–shoots him a flat look. “You understand us now. What did you do?”

“Universal translation trick?”

“Clever. Then, as I was  _saying,_  all alien assassins will be  _still_  in the presence of Prince Dorrek-Vell until we have decided what to do with you.”

The Skrull sighs, and then grins. “Noh-Varr is a bit overprotective.”

Tom says, irritably, “I’m not an  _assassin._ ”

Bill says, “Wait. Prince?”


	79. Come, Gentles All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt for minister-of-silly-walks! ^_^ This one is for Nohmmy and BillyTeddy, 25: Renaissance festival or other historical reenactment AU. Because how can I be reasonably expected to resist a RenFaire?

The pounding of hooves on the jousting field, combined with the fact that the day is windy as it is, kicks up a constant low-level dust storm. It paints everyone a light brown, knights, spectators, and royalty alike. The knights charge on valiantly regardless–no wind will stop them from their chosen sport–but on the edge of the field, a particularly strong gust makes Bill sneeze so hard that he drops his juggling balls and almost breaks character.

He gathers them up with a muttered, “Shit,” not especially looking forward to sneezing black for a week, and then comes up with a brilliant smile. “A small slip, fair ladies, fine gentlemen, and children of all ages!” Dusty though it is, his motley is still bright, and children clap and cheer as he begins to juggle again.

He’s starting to think longingly of the afternoon, when he can duck away, wash and change, pile on some eyeliner, and take over at the fortunetelling booth, when he hears the trumpets signalling the arrival of the Green Knight.

The Green Knight always jousts with his visor down. That’s part of the appeal of the character; he’s supposed to be sort of a mystery, like a masked wrestler but with more of the fantasy-fiction kind of cachet that makes people spend fifteen bucks on faire entrance and plenty more on souvenirs and oversized turkey legs inside. They’ve got a picture of him on the flyers. _  
_

Carefully he starts to move his juggling through the crush to the edge of the jousting arena. Ostensibly this is to keep little kids entertained while their parents watch the jousting, but really Bill’s just interested in seeing Ted Altman drive the crowd wild.

So far, everything’s going according to script. The king’s shocked but pleased. The queen is regal. The princess is falling all over herself with excitement, as she always does–Kate’s gotten  _really_  good at blushing like a little kid while simultaneously looking so  _incredibly royal_  that it seems like she could destroy you with a look. The other knights are sort of grandstanding, although Bill can see that Eli’s gotten a Gatorade from somewhere and he’s sneaking a drink while everyone’s eyes are on Ted.

The Green Knight parades around the jousting arena. He pauses to give a flower to a little girl who just came to the faire in her Ariel costume, and she takes it and stares up at him like he just descended from heaven. Which…isn’t an unreasonable assumption, Bill feels like that about him pretty much constantly.

Now he’s going to go up to the princess and ask for her favor in the joust, like he does every Sunday, and–

“Ho, handsome jester!”

Bill doesn’t drop his juggling balls this time, but it takes some effort. He gapes up at the closed visor, and he can fucking  _hear_  Ted trying not to laugh. “Y-yes, Sir Knight?” There are too many people around for him to say,  _you’re going off book, what the hell?_

The Green Knight lowers his lance and holds it out. “The princess has denied me her favor, much to my dismay.” He’s doing the trick that makes his voice carry. “But from across the field I saw a more finer face. Will  _you_  give me a favor, jester, to bring me luck in the joust?”

Bill gapes a little more, and then looks across the field and catches Kate’s eye in the royal box. She winks.

This is  _her_  fault.

He’s going to  _kill_  her later.

Blushing red, he scrambles for something, hearing cameras snap as he draws a brightly-colored length of scarves from his sleeve. He’d been saving them for magic tricks, but under the circumstances…he ties them to the end of Ted’s lance as the crowd laughs and claps around them. “I…uh…a jester’s favor is a small thing, Sir Knight, but take it if you will, and I hope it does not bring you a fool’s luck.”

The Green Knight bows his head gravely. “I thank you, jester. I will carry your favor into battle with pride.” He is  _definitely laughing at Bill._  Or he’s pleased. He raises his lance again and trots off.

Bill stares after him, open-mouthed, and tries to figure out if he’s getting laid later.

–

Tom’s only in the stocks getting pelted with tomatoes because he pissed Luke off. It was only half fair; he  _was_  fucking around, but so was Brandon, who somehow managed to “mysteriously disappear” just before Luke came out to see what all the racket was. Little shit. He’s gonna pay later.

Being stuck in the stocks isn’t actually a bad job, at least. It’s set up in a shady spot, and the “tomatoes” aren’t really tomatoes, they’re just red water balloons. Mostly it’s just kids playing, too, and that means Tom gets to be silly and shout ridiculous insults that makes them laugh, He likes kids.

Plus he’s right across from the booth for Marvel Smithy, That never hurts his day.

They’re getting set up for a cutting demo right now. putting out yet another pillar of bamboo mats. Noh, the Romanian guy who does the demos is barely visible in the shade of the booth, stretching, occasional patches of light flashing off his hair. Tom’s never been able to determine whether it’s just naturally white or what, but it’s one hell of an effect.

Kamala’s doing the opening speeches, talking to the assembled crowd of bored punters and serious collectors about the proud tradition of sword-craft, the history of Marvel Smithy, and the quality of their craftsmanship. The crowd loves her, reasonably enough–she’s too cute not to love.

Then she claps her hands, and Noh steps out of the shadows. He’s taken his shirt off– _show-off_ –and a scabbard hangs from the belt over his leather apron.

He draws, and the crowd says,  _“Ooohhhh.”_

He shows off a few moves, steel gleaming in the sunlight, and then strikes with terrible suddenness at the cutting pillar.

A suspended pause, and then the top half of the pillar slides to the ground.

The crowd cheers.

Tom’s busy staring at the droplets of sweat trickling down Noh’s biceps. He’s so focused that he doesn’t even notice the water balloon until it hits him square in the face.


	80. Three Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> minister-of-silly-walks also asked for Nohmmy, 20: Nymphs and nature spirits AU

Noh-Varr leans over his campfire, frowning. He has the whole thing arranged; as always it’s getting it lit that’s the problem. That, and not getting frustrated with this whole “lost in the woods on an alien planet” thing.

He rubs his hands together and then drags his left index finger across his right palm. The tip of his finger ignites.

And just as he’s lowering the flame to the pyramid of sticks, a sudden gust of wind puts it out.

Irritated, he lights his finger again.

Another gust–this time accompanied by ghostly, omnidirectional laughter.

Noh-Varr blinks, lights his finger again, and lowers it to the sticks, but keeps his full attention on his surroundings. And a moment later he feels a tickle of moving air, and his burning hand shoots out to wrap around the creature zooming by.

“Ow!” He’s grabbed the ankle of a creature like a Kree in form, but smaller, and it’s landed on its face. It pushes itself up enough to shoot him a reproachful look. “You  _burned_  me!”

Its voice has a peculiar quality, somehow both breathy and resonant, and Noh-Varr finds himself inspecting it closely. It’s slim and sleekly muscled, with a coat of very fine, almost translucent white hair or fur. The hair on the top of its head is longer and tangled with twigs and green leaves, and it has eyes the color of fresh grass. Its only real departure from Kree form is the pair of long ears growing from its head.

“Are you going to let me go?”

“No. What are you?”

“Tom O’ The Winds! Trickster Tommy, Clever Tom, the Wicked Fast Child, Speed-of-the-Gale, that’s me! Then what are your wishes?”

Noh-Varr blinks. “Wishes?”

Tom grins at him. “You caught me and won’t release me. Therefore I’m yours, to grant you three wishes. What are your wishes? Gold, jewels, true love, meat for the pot–yours for the having!”

Startled, Noh-Varr lets go of him. “I’ll have to think about that for a bit.”


	81. Interest Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fatallywhimsical asked: Mac/Karla 28 PLEEEEASE <3
> 
> As a follow-up from that other Dark Avengers speed dating thing

Karla’s so bored, she’s considering pulling out a book. She’d thought speed dating might be  _fun._  At the very least she’d thought it would be  _funny._

So far it’s neither of those things. Mostly it’s just sort of sad, being presented with this neverending string of dull middle-aged men trying to seem enticing. For example, a dentist who’d been desperate to tell her about his weekend rock-climbing. An accountant and his vintage motorcycle. A flower-arranging used car salesman. They’re only interesting for their petty neuroses, and  _none_  of them are attractive enough to sleep with.

“Next,” she says, before Small Business Owner can launch into a description of his model trains.

 

The next man sits down and says, “Hey, toots. The name’s Mac.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Karla.”  _Toots?_

 _This_  one is bald and scrawny, with wide dark eyes and a faintly lopsided grin. He hasn’t dressed up; he’s just wearing jeans and a hoodie. He smells faintly of potato chips and steak.

Ready to call security if necessary, Karla puts on her fakest smile and says, “So what do  _you_  do, Mac?  _I’m_  a psychiatrist.”

“Useta be a private dick, but I lost my license. I do some work here and there.”

A criminal, then.  _Very_  interesting. And despite the odd food smell, he’s not  _bad_  to look at. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually met a real private investigator before. Sometimes I forget that they’re not just in old movies.” She leans back in her chair, smiling, and takes a sip of her coffee. “So what do you do for fun, then?”

He shrugs. “Hang out with my friends. I like to cook. I do some reading…I mean, not a ton, mostly Stephen King novels. Little Vonnegut.” And then his eyes flick to the side for a moment, and he  _twitches,_  and his face goes dark and closed for a moment, like he’s filled with terrible sorrow. “I got some bones to pick. Some people did wrong by me.”

Interest finally, genuinely piqued, Karla leans forward again and reaches across the table to put a hand on his. “You know, Mac, I think I’d like to know  _all_  about you.”


	82. Handful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Hi, I love your blog and your fanfics! You got me into Nohmmy, actually. I was wondering if you maybe could make more for Nohmmy & BillyTeddy 7? Pretty please? If you don't, it's totally okay! 'kay, bye!

Dorrek-Vell is going to tell him to take their restraints off.

Of  _course_  he is.

Noh-Varr can just  _feel_  him getting ready to say it. Because of course Dorrek wouldn’t believe that these humans are potential assassins, of course he’ll want to coddle them and baby them and treat them like interesting house-pets instead of potentially dangerous agents of a planet that the Empire’s had hostile interactions with in the past. They don’t know what  _powers_  these aliens might have, or what their  _intentions_  are, or  _anything_  about them.

But Dorrek’s the imperial prince and heir apparent, and Noh is his bodyguard and valet, and so that means he  _does_  have to do whatever the amiable idiot says. So he keeps his pistol trained on the forehead of the pale human he’s perched on top of and says, to  _both_  humans, “Yes. Prince. You are in the presence of Dorrek-Vell, the eighth to bear the name of Dorrek, heir apparent to the throne of the Kree-Skrull Empire and beloved son of the Princess Anelle. Tremble before his majesty. Do you now understand the gravity of your situation, alien assassins?”

Dorrek sighs. “Noh-Varr, you’re being needlessly intimidating.”

“It  _is_  my job, your highness.”

The pale human says, again, “I’m not an assassin.  _Neither_  of us is an assassin.”

“Then  _what_  is your business on Skrullos?”

The other human, the one with the dark hair and the slightly browner skin, laughs nervously. “We’re explorers. And we’re…uh…lost. We were trying to get to the Horsehead Nebula, but there’s apparently a bug in our guidance system.”

Dorrek blinks. “What would you do in the Horsehead Nebula? There isn’t anything there but a couple of mining outposts, and all they produce is gold. It’s really boring.”

Noh-Varr suppresses a frustrated noise. “Your highness, humans aren’t to be trusted. They’re a deceptive race, and they’re known to have strange and dangerous powers. I suggest we dissect them to further knowledge of human biology.”

“What?  _No!_  Don't  _dissect_  us!” The pale human’s face twists in rage, and then he starts to quiver again, as he was doing before Noh-Varr pinned him. “I’ll blow you the fuck up, is what I’ll do!”

“ _See,_  Dorrek? They're  _hostile._  This one is threatening us. And you saw what the other one did, who  _knows_  what else he might be capable of?”

“Fucking–they?  _I’m_  hostile! You leave Bill out of this!”

Dorrek holds up his hands, and Noh-Varr sighs.  _Here it comes._  “We’re not going to dissect you, Toms'maks'mov. No matter  _what_  Noh-Varr says.” He shoots Noh-Varr a quelling look, and Noh sighs again. “I’m sure they’re only hostile because they feel threatened. We must have frightened them.”

Noh-Varr pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dorrek…don’t say what I think you’re going to say.  _Please._ ”

“If we take off your restraints do you promise to sit down and talk to us like civilized people and not try to run away?”

Noh-Varr groans. The dark-haired human is nodding. “We promise.”

“I didn’t promise anything!”

“Shut  _up,_  Tom, you’re going to get us  _killed._ ”

“But–”

“I swear to god, Tom, if you get us killed I’m going to tell Granddad.”

“Oh, for–fine. I promise.” The pale human scowls. “As long as this creep gets off me.”

Dorrek nods, looking infuriatingly satisfied with this  _entirely_  inadequate assurance. “All right, then. Noh-Varr, please get off Toms'maks'mov and release him and his companion from their restraints.”

Noh-Varr makes a face, puts away his pistol, and drops to the floor. The restraints on the pale human’s exam table all open simultaneously with the tap of a button, and as he’s moving to release the other human, he pauses by Dorrek and murmurs, “Dorrek, you are my prince and the brother of my heart and I love you dearly, but you’re so trusting sometimes that it’s idiotic.”

Dorrek just grins at him. “You need to lighten up, little brother. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I hate you.” Noh-Varr opens the other human’s restraints–those that have not already been  _opened_ –and then slouches against the exam room wall and takes out his pistol again. _  
_

“So,” Dorrek says cheerfully, as the humans sit up and stretch their arms and legs. “You’re explorers. Are you a mated pair? Is one of you a female? You look very similar, but I don’t know if that’s really true or if I’m just not used to human anatomy.”


	83. Willing Participants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Oh if it's not too late for the meme, could you do Jason/Merlin 28, but set in the multiverse for a first meeting?
> 
> That’s a new one. Sure, why not. ^_^
> 
> 28: Speed dating

When he’s filling out the little card, Jason says, “I think someone oughtta know that I’m here under protest.”

The registration lady smiles sympathetically at him. “Concerned friends?”

“Nosy big brother. I told him to give it a rest, but he’s gotten this idea that I need to meet someone.”

“Well, Mr. Todd, I hope you enjoy yourself regardless. Speed dating can be very fun! I’ve met some wonderful people that way myself.” She takes his completed card and hands him a new one, this one a list of names. “We’ll be starting in about fifteen minutes.”

–

At the other registration table, Merlin is slowly turning bright red as he says, “I hate you both.”

Tommy and Bart bump fists, and Tommy grins. “If you  _hated_  us you wouldn’t be here. Also I gotta say, I’m a little surprised that Noh-Varr didn’t object to us dragging his boyfriend to speed dating.”

“We’re, we’re not  _exclusive_  or anything. We’re both open to. Possibilities.”

Tommy raises a thoughtful eyebrow. “I didn’t know that. That’s…good to know.”

Bart glances over at him. “I didn’t know you were interested in Noh-Varr.”

“What? No. No, of course not. Nooooo.”

Bart and Merlin both say, “Liar.”

Merlin finishes registering, and the man at the desk shows him where to sit. Bart and Tommy settle down in another part of the cafe where they can get a good view, and Tommy gets out a notebook. “Got everyone’s bets right here.”

Bart grins. “The Merlin Romance Countdown Clock begins.”

–

The third name on Jason’s card is “Merlin Baker.” He looks for the table number, spots the redhead in a purple shirt, and sits down across from him. He doesn’t even say hello. He just asks, without preamble, “So are you related to Merlyn the Magnificent or what?”

“Wow, nobody’s asked me that in– _ohh._ ”

“What?” Jason shifts uncomfortably. “You’re staring. I got something on my face?”

“You’re…” Merlin drops his voice low. “You’re  _Jason Todd!_ ”

“How’d you…wait.” Jasn scowls. “Merlin. I’ve  _heard_  of a Merlin. Are you that kid Tim hangs out with? Is this a put-on?”

“No! Well, I mean, yes, I’m Tim’s friend Merlin, but no, it’s not a trick on you, my dumb friends dragged me here. But not Tim.” Merlin gestures with his head, and at Jason’s glance an albino kid waves to him and fucking  _Bart Allen_  goes pop-eyed. “I kind of, I…actually I’m not sure why they wanted me to do this but I think they’re laying bets on something. Which I’m cool with, I’ll just make them give me a cut.”

“Not a bad plan, kid.” Jason looks him up and down thoughtfully. “So you’re a hero too, right?”

Merlin shrugs. “I guess so? I don’t always feel very heroic. I get kidnapped and tied up a lot.”

“I hear that. Comes with the territory, really.” The guy’s not  _bad_  to look at, really. Jason takes another glance over at Merlin’s friends and sees Bart gesturing frantically and talking at high speed to his albino friend, who’s talking just as fast. “…look, how old are you?”

Merlin blinks. “Seventeen. And a half. Why?”

Jason grins. “Wanna fuck up their betting pool? Let’s go somewhere with  _decent_ coffee.”  _And then do something I can freak Timmy out with later._

Merlin turns bright red and nods. “That sounds great. Just lemme text my boyfriend.”

“Your boyf–”

“He won’t mind.” A contemplative pause. “He might want pictures.”

–

“LookIjustmean–oh shit.” Tommy’s mouth drops open. “They’re leaving together! Looklooklook!”

Bart looks at where he’s staring, turns pale, and then starts flipping rapidly through the betting book. “OhmygodTommylookatthis.”

“What? Lookatwhat?”

“Tim  _rigged the bet._ ”

“That cheating little  _shit!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the stories! If you did, please let me know!


End file.
